


It was the D.N.A.

by ReasonablyDramatic



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Breaking Free, Brian still loves animals, Drama, Freddie is proud, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, John is the royal advisor, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Pining, Queen - Freeform, Roger is the Queen of England, Roger plays Regina, Running Away, Secrets, Smile, Smut, Sneaking Out, Soft Boys, Tags will be updated, They still play music, Why Did I Write This?, alternative universe, but also kinda fun, everyone is confused, first chapter can be read as a oneshot, lots of crossdressing, more or less, this au is so weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReasonablyDramatic/pseuds/ReasonablyDramatic
Summary: Roger wants to be in a rock band. An opportunity arises when he meets a guitarist who is searching for a drummer.Too bad that Roger is already occupied with being Princess Regina, heiress to the throne of England, and his male identity needs to stay secret.While struggling to find himself in between duty and desire, he falls for Brian.





	1. The end of the line

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Please do not send this to any members of Queen, the BohRhap-cast or anyone associated with them.
> 
> 2\. If you are associated with Queen in any kind of way except for being a slightly lunatic fan, TURN BACK NOW (and I'm very sorry).
> 
> 3\. This is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters nor do I want to insult, offend or upset anyone with this, it's all for good fun.
> 
> 4\. If you own a hamster, do not put it inside a microwave.
> 
> 5\. My only excuse for writing or even thinking of this is that I am a daft potato. If you are by any chance a daft potato as well, you might enjoy it and that is the only reason I am publishing this sh*t. If you leave kudos and/or a comment, I will be eternally grateful (mostly for knowing that I am not the only crazy person here, but one look at this fandom and... well, you know). :D
> 
> 6\. CHAPTER 1 can be read as a Oneshot. It's also possible that not everything makes sense yet, some things will be explained in the future although I don't know how long this thing is going to be (probably not THAT long, a few chapters).  
> Oh, and if there are songlines in it that is actually really by accident (except for scenes where songs are being sung of course). Sorry in advance for any mistakes too, English is not my mother tongue and it's almost 5AM now, I wrote this in the last few hours ':D

“Is this really necessary?“, Regina asks with a decidedly unladylike scowl on her angelic face.

 

“I’m afraid so, Miss. Do I need to remind you that your function as a princess and future queen is…”

 

“…to represent the government and make peace, bla bla bla…”, Regina says in a low voice, imitating the speech she often receives by her close friend John. Unfortunately, he is also her royal advisor and a very dutiful person. Which means that he regularly tries to keep Regina from doing “stupid” and “dangerous” things. And while Regina would much rather have her fun and break the etiquette or not show up to events she is invited to at all, she knows that she ultimately has to give in and compromise to a certain degree. This is not only her job after all, this is her life.

 

Regina sighs dramatically and rummages through the drawer in her dressing table. “I can’t find the right fucking eyeliner.”

 

“Language”, John says under his breath and avoids looking at the mirror on the dressing table to escape Regina’s deadly stare. Eventually she finds what she is looking for and applies a thin line of blue kohl, enhancing the colour of her piercing eyes.

 

“I feel like it should get easier with time, you know”, Regina says. John is still sitting on the four-poster bed behind her. “I mean, it does of course. But I still have to make so much of an effort most of the time to pull it off. I wake up in the morning and it feels right, and then I remember who I am to everybody else and it’s just so much _pressure_. And then I start searching for options, for a way out of it and I can’t find one, and the dress of the day is hanging on a hanger in front of the closet, the make-up is waiting for me and that’s not even the fucking problem. I don’t care about what I’m wearing, you know.” She frowns, runs her fingers tentatively over her cheeks, looks into her own eyes in the mirror. “I just wish I could live my life like _normal_ people do, go outside by myself, say and do things without thinking twice if I’m getting the mannerisms right, worrying if they believe me, if they suspect that something isn’t _right_.”

 

“What brought this on? Why are you saying that now, today?”

 

“Yesterday. When we met those research workers in Imperial College.”

 

John cocks his head questioningly.

 

“There was a flyer on the bulletin board. Two guys are looking for a drummer to form a band. Must be able to play like Ginger Baker and Mitch Mitchell, is what it said…”

 

John chews on his lower lip. “You know that’s impossible.”

 

Regina jumps up from her chair, her flower-patterned dress floats around her delicate figure when she turns around to face John, her beautifully painted features distorted in stubborn anger.

 

“I can play like Mitch Mitchell and Ginger Baker! I can play _better_!”

 

“I _know_ ”, says John, “that’s not what I meant and you know that – but even if you could be yourself, you still wouldn’t be able to play in a band like this because you are royalty and you need to be protected, it wouldn’t be safe, everybody knows what the royal family looks like.”

 

“Nobody knows my face!”, Regina laughs. She can feel warmth in her cheeks and her eyes getting watery. “Sometimes I don’t even know anymore! I’m not allowed to go outside this room as myself and I don’t even get the opportunity to make real friends, I never did! I can’t imagine doing this forever, John!”

 

“Calm down, you’re working yourself up! And you’re ruining your make-up, we need to get going soon. Breathe!” John rises from the soft dark red sheets on the bed, grabs Regina by the shoulders and looks straight into her eyes. “You need to breathe! Roger…!”

 

Hearing his name calms Roger down instantly, at least a little, and he launches forward to pull John into a rib crushing hug, fists clenching in his friend’s tweed jacket.

 

“Even my birth certificate says Regina. It’s like Roger only exists in my head”, Roger mutters with a raspy voice. He holds back the tears and tries not to press his face too much into John’s shirt. Stupid make-up. But right now, he would not have the nerve to wipe it all off and start over again if it gets smudged.

 

“That’s a piece of paper, nothing more. A very official piece of paper, I’ll give you that, but still. You are who you are, Roger. And if it ever comes down to it, I’d happily confirm to the public that you do indeed have a dick, if that helps you.” A bitter laugh escapes Roger’s lips that are shimmering with Regina’s gloss.

 

“I wish my parents would have had a fucking daughter, so I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

 

“I wish for that too sometimes.”

 

“That is not helpful, John.”

 

“I still don’t get what the Rogerina-crisis has to do with your music problem. As I said, even if it was possible for a prince to claim the throne or if you had a sister or something like that, you still wouldn’t be able to play the drums in a random college band.” Roger entangles himself from John and sits down in his chair in front of the dressing desk again, finishing Regina’s paint.

 

“When I imagine myself as a drummer in a rock band, I never imagine Regina. It’s always Roger. I know it’s not possible, but even in my dreams everything is so wrong that it depresses me.” Roger now inspects the callouses on his fingertips without actually doing anything. “So, what is that thingy today?”

 

“It’s a charity event for a wildlife animal rescue centre. I’m sure you’ll like it, there will be cute hedgehogs and foxes and live music, if I’m correct.”

 

“Hm.” Roger hums. Yet another function where he needs to smile and make superficial conversation with strangers. He’s not exactly excited to go. But Regina has to be.

 

***

 

“Thanks for letting me play with you guys! I have to go, the hedgehogs will be hungry by now.”

 

“Sure thing, Brian! It was nice jamming with you, you really know what you’re doing!”, Dean, the drummer of the jazz band says.

 

“I try.” Brian smiles, flustered by the compliment. He unplugs his Red Special and goes outside to put it in the open garage next to a spare amp and other stuff the band brought but doesn’t need right now. Their van is parked here as well. To see the garage, you’d have to walk away from the main building and around the barn, so Brian doesn’t worry about his precious guitar too much. The amp next to his own guitar case makes him curious though; he has played on the amps in the jazz room at college, at the music store and on his old and nameless amp at home, and he is always interested in getting different and new sounds out of his baby, so he tries every amplifier and pedal he can get his hands on. He knows the jazz band won’t mind and no one will hear him anyway, except for a few animals that live in the barn, so he plugs the “Vox AC30” into a battery and connects it to his guitar. The bluesy sound he gets after tweaking the tone controls a bit is blissful and puts a big smile on his face. He tries a few different settings, getting lost in the music, until he suddenly remembers that he wanted to feed the hedgehogs. The thought of the little fellas waiting for him and a warm bottle of milk because he was busy playing makes him feel guilty and he rushes out of the garage, leaving the guitar in the open case.

 

While feeding the hedgehogs, Brian lets his mind wander and his thoughts inevitably get stuck on what is going to happen here in only about an hour; the property has been locked down since yesterday, more and more security personnel has arrived since then and the organizers of the event are running around in a frenzy, trying to get the decorations and the food just right for the person everyone is so excited for: The princess.

 

The princess, rightful heiress to the throne of England is going to be _here_. Brian has seen pictures of her and once a black and white film that showed her inside the castle. Princess Regina is twenty-three years old, two years younger than Brian, and _beautiful_ , her features delicate and angelic. She looks timeless and in an odd moment Brian thinks she would be just as exquisite if she were a man. A strange thought considering he has never seen a photo or drawing of her without a dress, but then again not a very surprising one considering that he is bisexual and mostly likes other men and that his thoughts wander easily in weird directions, no matter what they are about. The only thing that puts Brian off about Regina are her eyes. At the same time, they are probably the reason he is so fascinated by her. Regina is often pictured with a calm, confident but ultimately presentable and appropriate look in her eyes, but that applies only to those pictures that are obviously staged. Then there is the short film Brian saw. Regina smiled almost throughout the entire recording, but her eyes were sad except for a few moments when a fiery spark seemed to light them up, similar to the glint Brian sometimes sees in the eyes of a wild animal that is new to the rescue centre and not tame in the least, trying to bite its way out of the situation instead of accepting the help it knows nothing about yet. Brian told his friends Freddie, Jim and Tim about this. Freddie was the only one who had noticed it too, and, while stroking the cat in his arms, he said:

 

“I may behave like a queen sometimes, but I sure as hell wouldn’t like to be one. Regina must go through hell with all the expectations, she doesn’t seem to handle it all that well, poor darling…!”

 

And now Regina is coming here, to the rescue centre where Brian volunteers on a regular basis, enough to allow him to be here for the princess’ visit and Brian can’t help but hope to be able to talk to her, look her in the eye and give her a smile, and in his fantasies the smile she throws back at him is 100% genuine and then they ride into the sunset together on unicorns or maybe on a horse-sized badger.

 

Brian would be lying if he said he never imagined what Regina’s fingers would feel like on his skin while he’s in the shower, or how her moans would sound or how she would tremble under his touch. He is not stupid, he knows that nothing will ever happen between them and that he is lucky if he even catches a glimpse of her in real life. A man can dream, right?

 

***

 

Brian feels out of place.

 

His suit is borrowed, a bit too big and obviously used while the men and women around him are – this is equally obvious – swimming in money and wearing costly pinstripe suits and fancy dresses. Except for the ones who are like Brian and belong to the shelter. He reminds himself that it’s fine and that it’s good like this because it means that those people have a lot of money that they might be willing to give to the rescue centre, that is why they are here in the first place anyway.

 

Princess Regina is _here_. Her advisor, a young man in a white button-up shirt and a tweed suit, doesn’t leave her side. Brian wonders briefly if the two are a _thing_ , but he discards the thought as soon as he realizes he’s being stupid again. In lack of something better to do, he twirls the expensive champagne in his glass with a flick of his wrist and watches while it settles down again.

 

“Are you bored?”, asks an unfamiliar voice right next to him. Brian jumps in surprise as he looks up and sees Regina. He did not expect _that_. She is wearing a flowy dress with intricate flower patterns and lots of jewellery – bracelets, rings, a heavy-looking sapphire around her neck… Now that he is so close to her, Brian can see that she has rather a lot of make-up on her face, not in the sense of making it look overdone, more like a carefully calculated painted picture on top of her natural features. She seems to be pleased with Brian’s flabbergastedness. Her smirk renders Brian speechless. Now that she is in front of him and the upper hand is hers respectively due to the situation, it’s like his brain has frozen over and only basic functions like breathing and holding a glass are available.

 

“Are you okay?”, she asks, still smirking rather satisfied. Her eyes are like pure _fire_. In a good way.

 

“Y-Yes, I’m fine”, Brian says, slowly regaining all of his senses.

 

“Do you work here?”

 

“Is it so obvious?”, Brian asks, blushing a bit.

 

“Well, yes… Not that that’s a bad thing. I admire what you do.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I like animals. I saw the cages and the barn outside, I almost wish I wasn’t stuck in here.”, Regina laughs, and Brian notes it has a bitter edge to it.

 

“If you’d like, I can show you around outside, you can even hold one of the hedgehogs if you want? They are very friendly. Some of them anyway.” Regina’s eyes light up at his words. She reaches one hand out as if to touch Brian before pulling back. She didn’t move enough to make it obvious, but Brian still noticed. And not only him.

 

“Regina! It’s so good to see you!” A man in his late twenties throws his arm around Regina’s shoulders out of nowhere and she winces at the sudden contact.

 

“Eric”, she says coldly and removes his arm with a sweep of her hand. “You’re interrupting.”

 

It is only now that Brian notices the absence of Regina’s advisor.

 

“Don’t you want to introduce us, then?”, _Eric_ asks.

 

“I don’t know why I would want that”, Regina snaps.

 

“Oh Reg, don’t be so cold! I’m just making conversation.”, Eric says calmly. Regina holds back a snort at the nickname and bites on her lower lip, knowing she can’t allow herself to be too rude to Eric. He has connections and money and his family is an important business partner of the crown.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name before.”, Regina apologizes to Brian.

 

“It’s Brian”, Brian says, his face becoming redder by the minute.

 

“Ro-Regina”, Regina says, slapping herself mentally.

 

“I know”, Brian whispers, his face glowing like a ripe tomato in the sunlight.

 

“Brian, this is Eric, Eric, this is Brian.”, Regina announces. The two men shake hands and Brian wishes he would have wiped his on his oversized trousers before. Eric pretends Brian’s hand is not drenched in sweat while Brian’s face continues to feel like someone set fire to his skin.

 

“You can go now, Eric. I’m sure there are business things to be discussed with other _men_.” Inner Roger klicks his tongue sarcastically inside Regina’s head.

 

“Isn’t she feisty?”, Eric laughs, the words directed at Brian who looks positively offended on Regina’s behalf.

 

“If she doesn’t want to talk to you, maybe you should go”, Brian says, putting more courage in his voice than he actually feels. Eric frowns for a millisecond before his mask slips back into place. Everyone here seems to be wearing one, Brian notes, except for himself. Or does the tomato face count?

 

“Is he your new babysitter, Reg? And here I thought I was in luck when I saw that Deacon is gone.”

 

“No!”, Regina hisses between her teeth, trying to hold onto a last shred of self-control. “I don’t need a babysitter and I am perfectly capable to decide for myself who I want to talk to and who I want to get out of my sight.”

 

“Don’t be like this, Reg.” Eric puts his hand on Regina’s shoulder. She glares at it like it’s a very disgusting kind of bug.

 

“If you don’t take your hand off _right_ now, I will bite you.” Eric laughs, Brian watches the situation unravel before him helplessly.

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“Of course you are.” Eric rubs small circles on Regina’s shoulder. In the blink of an eye her jaws snap sideways and sink into Eric’s arm, leaving spit and toothmarks on his white dress-shirt and causing him to let out a painful shriek that draws the attention of the people around them to the scene. Unfortunately, Eric reacts purely out of instinct and fights back, resulting in his open hand meeting Regina’s left cheek with considerable speed. The noise seems to echo through the room, the jazz band stops playing and conversations come to a sudden halt. If someone dropped a pin right now, everyone would hear it.

 

Brian sees tears of rage in Regina’s widened eyes, the fingerprints still visible on her reddened cheek (Brian’s own face is drained of almost all its colour by now). Her lips tremble as if she’s holding herself back from screaming and launching into some very unroyal words and actions. Eric looks stunned, like he can’t believe what just happened and what he just did, and he brings one hand in front of his mouth like a shocked old lady who just found out that she’s run out of yarn in the middle of knitting a new sock on a Sunday where all the shops are closed.

 

This _Deacon_ is apparently not in the room or he would have come to Regina’s rescue now at the very latest.

 

***

 

Regina pushes through the crowd to the exit. She holds back tears and fury, and everyone steps aside for her without a word. John is nowhere in sight, god knows where he is. Her feet carry her away from the main building and around the old barn in the hope of finding a place where she can’t be seen. And sure enough, she rounds the corner and there is nobody to be seen. There is an open garage and a van in front of it. Regina sits down on a bag with some kind of grain in it and buries her face in her hands. The tears run freely now, her cheek stings and she gasps for air, her body shaking with too many emotions. Something like this was never allowed to happen. She should have had more self-control than that. She looks up, wiping at her face and effectively destroying her mask, and spots an instrument on the other side of the garage. It’s a beautiful red guitar and she gets up to look at it more closely. Regina fades out more and more and Roger fades in instead. He has seen many guitars but none of them looked like this. Curious, he lifts it out of its case. There is a Vox AC30 next to it and he doesn’t feel like he has a different choice than to plug the guitar in, sling the strap over his shoulder and flick the power switch on the amplifier. This is exactly what he needs right now. He tries the sound and changes it, turning the knobs until the amp jumps into overdrive, though he doesn’t turn it louder than necessary to accomplish that. No need to lure the guests out of the main house and into the garage. Roger opens the inline pocket in the guitar case and finds what he was looking for – a plectrum – and something else: The very same flyer he saw at Imperial College. Maybe the owner of this guitar wants to try out for the band? But to try out as a drummer, while possessing a guitar as beautiful as this? _Audition in the jazz room at Imperial College, Friday 13 th, 8pm._

 

The flyer gets a new home, folded and safely tucked away underneath Roger’s fake breasts inside of his dress.

 

***

 

In the first seconds, Brian is so stunned that he can’t do anything but try and comprehend the situation. Then a very upset Regina pushes through the crowd and disappears. The second she is out of the door, people start talking and gossiping about what just went down. The princess was slapped! What a scandal. And did she really bite that man? Brian wants to follow her, but Eric holds him back and starts apologizing profusely for the slap, saying it was a reflex and he didn’t want to hurt Regina. Not that Brian understands why, since he is clearly not the one Eric should be apologizing to. The man seems very agitated and upset, which is understandable. He doesn’t let Brian get away for at least ten minutes and for that Brian hates him in that moment. Finally he manages to redirect Eric to another pitiable person who is nearby. He follows Regina’s trail and goes outside. The air is fresh since it rained this morning and the faint smell of all the animals (and their crap) and mown grass fills Brian’s nostrils. Where would he himself go if he wanted to be alone now?

 

Brian looks inside the barn and then goes around it. Suddenly an unmistakable sound pierces his ears. A guitar. His guitar. The Red Special is in the garage. The sound comes from the garage. Someone is playing his guitar.

 

Brian walks faster. He stops next to the van and listens before he comes closer, he can’t see anything yet. Whoever it is plays rhythm guitar and it sounds punkier than anything Brian has ever played or thinks he is ever going to play in his life. Then a voice sets in. It trembles a bit, not because it’s too weak but because there is too much power behind it that is being held back, and it fits the song just right. It’s not too scratchy, but it doesn’t sound like a young woman’s voice exactly, not how Regina sounds anyway, so it can’t be her. Brian is intrigued.

 

“Well you're just 17 and all you want to do is disappear  
You know what I mean there's a lot of space between your ears  
The way that you touch don't feel no nothin'  
Hey hey hey hey it was the D.N.A.  
Hey hey hey hey that made me this way  
Do you know do you know do you know just how I feel?”

 

But he is also upset. His guitar is his baby, he built it himself and he is not exactly elated at the idea of somebody else touching it. And that is why he interrupts now, stepping forward with a stern look on his face and the intention of shutting that stranger up and getting his guitar back.

 

His eyes lock with Regina’s, the last chord she played rings out as she drops her plectrum in surprise, her mouth open, the black and blue make-up around her reddened eyes smudged across half her face, half-dried tear-tracks on her cheeks and faint red fingerprints on the left one from Eric’s slap. Her hair is mussed, her expression unguarded, vulnerable and defiant at once.

 

Regina breaks the eye contact first, turning the volume knob on the guitar to zero, pulling the cable out and the guitar off, handing it directly to Brian. The amp screeches as the end of the cable hits the floor.

 

“This is yours I suppose”, she says, interpreting Brian’s intentions correctly, keeping her voice cool as if it is a perfectly reasonable thing for a princess to play a randomly found guitar in a garage at a charity event while looking completely destroyed. She straightens her dress and later Brian is sure that he must have imagined her pulling one breast into place from an angle that is too weird to be natural. She walks past him, upright and nonchalant and says “It was nice meeting you, Brian. Beautiful guitar by the way. But I have to go now.”, before she rounds the corner, one hand lifted and waving innocently, leaving a speechless Brian behind.


	2. Roger in control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger sneaks out to try out for the band "Smile". He did plan to go home afterwards, but plans can change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for the kudos and comments, if you leave a few words for me it makes me very happy! :-)
> 
> I'm not sure if I should put a TRIGGER WARNING to go with this chapter. Nothing wild really. Idk.
> 
> Also I hate word. I started writing in british English and it kept changing words to american English automatically and I was too lazy to adjust the program, so I guess it's mostly american English? As I said, it's not my mother tongue, I hope you don't mind. I haven't written an awful lot of stuff in English either and I think the first part of this chapter didn't come out very well, but nevermind. I hope the rest of it makes up for it. :-)
> 
> Prepare for angst!

When the doctor tells the king and the queen that there are going to be complications in the pregnancy, they are shocked. He is quick to reassure them that mother and child are not in immediate danger, but the consequences are dire; a caesarean section is going to be required and she is not going to be able to ever have another child since her ovaries will have to be removed. They didn’t want to find out about the baby’s sex before. Now they do.

 

“It’s a boy.”

 

The queen bursts into tears. Despite being happy that the baby is safe and sound, she knows what that means. Only a woman can reign, and if her line of succession comes to an end like this, the next person to take the throne would be her cousin Eloise whose political opinions are unmentionably undemocratic and backwards. While the main purpose of the queen these days is the representation of the country and the government, she still has a lot of power that _can_ be used, and in Eloise’s hands that could end in a disaster.

 

The queen is basically the mother of the country and its inhabitants, and now she does what any good mother would do – she protects them by giving them what they need: A princess.

 

Some of the caretakers and advisors are in on the secret of course. Princess Regina grows up in a very untraditional environment. She plays with dolls and cars, gets every toy she wants, be it for girls or for boys even though she is being pushed into the girls’ direction a bit by being taught how a lady behaves alongside political and cultural education, languages and everything a normal child learns in school. When she learns about genders and pronouns and the biological aspects of making love, it confuses her. When she realizes that the dress code gap between men and women in books and “moving pictures” and in the staff of the castle and its visitors is quite big, it confuses her even more. Even though she has a psychologist who helps her sort through it all, multiple identity crises are inevitable.

 

By now, Roger would like to kill Regina most of the time. Or at least lock her away and let her come out only when he wants her to, not when is told to. She is a huge part of him, but the rest is so oppressed that he feels he can barely breathe when he can finally let Regina slip off in the evening and go to sleep as _Roger_. Everything is so complicated and sometimes it feels like someone is chipping away on his brain with a cheese grater. It can be hard to know which parts of himself are pretend and which ones are real.

 

Since they are both not exactly innocent in the matter, the incident with Eric has no consequences other than a lot of weird articles in the press. They like to make up their own versions of it and Regina is described as a wildcat and a bloodthirsty monster in a few newspapers and gossip magazines, but most try to keep the picture of the mild, soft and overall wonderful princess upright. Roger is sure that his mom has something to do with that. He doesn’t ask. She doesn’t lecture him and hugs him instead, a resigned look on her face. She wishes for things to be different just as much as he does, and she knows he is going to watch out better in the future.

 

Nobody punishes him, which makes Roger feel even more guilty for slipping up and bringing shame on the crown, and he refuses to do anything fun with John for the next three days. He sits through some lectures about political movements and such, not concentrating and staring right through his advisors. Not even the music room seems to bring him any enjoyment, he just sits in front of the piano for hours, one foot up on the small bench, his chin on his knee, touching a few keys from time to time.

 

He is not depressed, he is thinking.

 

The flyer he nicked from Brian’s guitar case is safely hidden in a notebook he uses to write down notes and lyrics when an idea strikes him.

 

He wears the most proper dresses he can find in his closet and uses a lot of time to bathe and shave his legs very cleanly, and he applies his make-up with great care. Roger is in hiding, brooding behind the façade of Regina that seems more feminine than ever.

 

***

 

“I have a date tonight”, John says at the breakfast table, his eyes dreamy and happy.

 

“Who is she?”, Regina asks, and Roger is mentally high-fiving himself because it means he won’t have any problems to get rid of John in time. It’s _Friday_.

 

“Her name is Veronica. I met her at the wildlife rescue centre…”

 

“So that’s where you went! I was wondering.”

 

“I would say that I regret talking to her because you managed to get yourself into trouble in the half hour you didn’t have a babysitter, but I can’t because she is _amazing_ and I _know_ I’m going to marry her one day.”

 

“I’m twenty-three, I don’t need a babysitter.”

 

“Yes, the newspaper articles are proof of _that_. And the fact that I can’t leave you alone at an event like this for _half an hour_ indicates that you are completely capable of taking care of yourself.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying, thank you.”, Regina says dryly and sips on her tea, her pinkie finger sticking out mockingly. John sighs.

 

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone there. It’s actually not my job to babysit you but to _advise_ you, you know. It somehow turned from advising to keeping you out of trouble at all times, I don’t know how it happened.”

 

“It’s a gift.”, Roger deadpans in a deep voice. John shakes his head fondly and bites into his croissant.

 

***

 

It’s not like he’s in prison. He is a princess, and those in the know have always tried to help him to make it more bearable when it got tough.

 

In a hidden corner in his walk-in-closet, there are clothes he never gets to wear in public. They exist only for his private indulgence. Except now. Washed-out looking, half-tight jeans, a leather jacket, no make-up and no jewellery except for a chain necklace. He almost feels naked as he climbs out of the window and onto the fire escape. The window slides shut, the wind blows in his face. _Freedom is waiting for him_. He shoves his favourite drumsticks into his jeans. It’s impractical, but it makes him feel safe.

 

It’s not like he never tried to convince John to go outside with him dressed as a man, hidden behind sunglasses with his hair underneath a hat. Nobody would recognize him then. John didn’t want to. Roger knows he is a bit anxious about him underneath his calm demeanour, afraid of not being able to protect the prince when it comes down to it. It doesn’t help that John is even younger than him. So he gave in.

 

The metal of the fire escape is cold under his socks, but it would make much more noise to keep the shoes on. He reaches the damp grass without complications and slips into his shoes. In the distance he can see the flashlights of a few security men. It reminds him why he stopped his secret walks in the middle of the night, something he loved to do as a late teen. Adrenaline courses through his body even though nothing is happening, and he gets off on it (it’s so _good_ to do something naughty), but it scares him as well. He can’t afford it to get caught, especially because he plans on sneaking out again if everything goes according to plan and if they catch him, security will be upped. It’s ridiculous really, he is twenty-three and basically needs his mom’s approval to do anything by himself. Still, he knows some of the keycodes that are needed to get through the gates. He manages to get through one of the smaller and not so heavily guarded garden gates without being seen, walks for a bit and then takes a taxi to Imperial College with money he stole from John. He promises himself that he’s going to give it back as soon as he can.

 

It’s quarter past nine when he arrives. Roger doesn’t know which part of his way made him lose so much time, he calculated it beforehand after all. He spends another fifteen minutes trying to find the jazz room or a human being to ask for directions, but the hallways are empty. It’s like a labyrinth to him and now he doesn’t even know where the exit of the building is.

 

***

 

The last drummer leaves and Brian lets out an exasperated sigh. Tim is at work since he couldn’t get out of the night shift at the restaurant, and he listened and played with four guys who wanted to join “Smile”. They were no good. Well, one of them has been. Brian didn’t like him at all though, so it was a no-no. He closes his guitar case, grabs his bag and throws the door of the jazz room closed with a “bam”, wincing at the unexpected loud noise, and locks it dutifully.

 

As he looks up, a young man rounds the corner, his face lighting up when he sees Brian.

 

“Hi Brian!”, he says.

 

“Do we know each other?” Brian frowns and Roger notices his mistake – he is not supposed to know Brian’s name.

 

“Um, I’ve heard about your band before”, Roger lies without blinking. Brian looks flattered.

 

“You’re here to try out as a drummer? You’re a bit late.”

 

“I know, I’m sorry. Have you already…?”

 

“…what?” Brian is too tired to be polite as Roger stops.

 

“Well, have you found a new drummer yet?”

 

“No, I haven’t.” Brian unlocks the room again, the keys clinking against each other in the process. Roger’s smile gets even bigger, blue eyes shining with glee.

 

“So, can I try out?”

 

Brian opens the door and bows theatrically, oblivious to the irony of that specific move. Roger prances past him and over to the drum kit. He pulls his drumsticks out of his pants and hits one drum at a time, adjusting the screws on the rings of the toms and the snare.

 

“What are you doing?”, Brian asks curiously. None of the others he has seen this evening have done _that_ – he’s never seen any drummer do this.

 

“I’m tuning the drums”, Roger replies with a grin on his face that implies that he thinks it should be obvious what he’s doing.

 

“Ah”, says Brian and feels a bit stupid. He didn’t even know drums needed to be tuned after all. It does make sense when he thinks about it.

 

“I’m Roger by the way.”, Roger says and beams at Brian. It takes a while until the drums sound the way Roger wants them to (not surprising considering that this is probably the first tuning they got in their lives) and Brian has enough time to set up his guitar and watch Roger at work. He would be lying if he said Roger’s appearance isn’t stunning. His delicate features, his long, blonde hair and his shiny blue eyes – the fire inside of them reminds him of someone, but he can’t figure out where he has seen it before. He is pretty sure he’s never seen Roger around at University so that can’t be it. Roger’s voice and his smirk are nothing but _sexy_ , and he forces himself to think about something else before his dick reacts to his vivid imagination of what it would feel like to have the drummer writhe and moan under him, begging for more…

 

“I’m finished!”, Roger says, and Brian’s face changes its colour until it resembles a tomato once again. Brian nods, Roger starts playing and Brian’s jaw drops in marvel. Instead of bashing his drums like a maniac, Roger plays little drumrolls that merge into each other like flowing water and it creates a sound Brian has never heard before. He alternates between that and hitting the drums in time with all his might while keeping up the rest of the rhythm too. It looks and sounds effortless and Brian wonders for a moment why someone that good is here with him instead of touring the planet with his pockets full of money and fame. Then Roger stops and the magic is still thick in the air.

 

“Do you… can we play together maybe?”, Roger asks, not really waiting for Brian’s approval or critique, only for his participation. Brian nods and starts playing. The sound of the Red Special instantly connects with the drumbeats as if it’s one instrument or maybe a very well-timed and edited recording. He stands right in front of Roger’s kit; their eyes make contact and they keep playing without breaking it. Brian is glad that his guitar is hanging in front of his lower body because he is sporting a half-boner by now, unable to tear his gaze away from Roger’s.

 

Eventually they stop, and Brian finds himself scrambling for words. “Do you want to go get a drink? There’s a good bar not far from my apartment.”

 

Roger snickers. Brian’s face _burns_. “I didn’t mean… that came out wrong. Do you want to hang out? Is what I… what I meant.”

 

“What about the band?”, Roger asks.

 

“We practice here next Monday at eight.”

 

Roger looks pleased.

 

“Sounds good. And yes, I would love to get a drink with you in the bar next to your apartment.”, he teases, relishing the way Brian blushes and smiles in embarrassment.

 

***

 

Roger is excited. Really, _really_ excited. He is in a band, or he will be anyway, he met Brian again and played music with him and it was _magical_ , he is getting _drinks_ with him, he is outside in the city at night and doing things normal people his age do. He is walking next to Brian on the sidewalk, their shoulders _accidentally_ bumping against each other softly from time to time. He follows Brian into the dark, cosy old pub and they sit at the counter. Roger daringly touches Brian’s knee with his own and notices the nervous smile that flickers across Brian’s face. They talk, Roger cleverly choosing music as the main topic to avoid having to lie too much about his family, his studies (“I’m studying politics” – that’s actually true, even though he doesn’t go to College physically) and his childhood. He still finds out that Brian is studying astrophysics, currently working on his master’s degree, that he volunteers at the wildlife rescue centre twice a week and lives in a small flat with his friend Freddie (“though he stays over at his boyfriend’s often”) and that he works as a waiter in a fancy restaurant to pay for rent and food. With his increasing intake of vodka & tonic, it gets harder and harder to resist the urge of putting his hand on Brian’s thigh (How would it feel to squeeze it? How would Brian react?). It’s adorable how enthusiastically Brian talks about stars and black holes and hedgehogs and badgers and Roger catches himself wishing to be another of those subjects Brian loves so much.

 

His hair is stringy, and his cheeks are reddened from the alcohol. He is cheerful and loud, but Brian notices how he seems to draw into himself more and more starting at his fourth drink.

 

“What’s on your mind?”, Brian asks and puts his hand on Roger’s knee, which causes it to move an inch in his direction. Roger chews on his lower lip unhappily.

 

“I’m so glad that I can be myself with you, Brian.”, he says.

 

“Uhm… We’re getting along really well it seems, that’s true. Although, why would you not be yourself anyway?”

 

“I’m drunk.”, Roger says to avoid the question.

 

“Yeah, I’m kind of tipsy as well. We should probably get going. Where do you live?”

 

“Far away”, Roger says eloquently and empties his glass in one go.

 

“Uhm, okay. Do you have an address? A way to get home?” Roger doesn’t reply. His breath gets faster, his trembling fingers playing with his empty glass.

 

“Are you crying?”, Brian asks softly and cups Roger’s face with his hand, moving it so Roger is looking – not at him, but in his direction at least. The guitarist gently brushes a tear away from Roger’s cheek. He should have noticed that Roger had too much to drink, it doesn’t seem like he is used to this amount of alcohol.

 

“No”, Roger mumbles and inspects the callouses on his hands in his lap.

 

“You can sleep in my flat if you like and go home tomorrow morning?”

 

Roger doesn’t say anything, but he looks up into Brian’s eyes and answers _yes_ with all his heart.

 

***

 

“But I _need_ to go! _Please!_ ” Regina doesn’t like begging. It’s beneath her dignity.

 

“A car race is not an event that is fit for a young princess, or any young girl at that matter!”

 

“I’m not a young girl!”

 

_“Regina!”_

 

Regina – and therefore Roger – doesn’t get what she wants that day. It’s not _reasonable_ , apparently. On the day of the drag race, Roger sneaks out of the window and vanishes. They search the castle for him and find him in the evening, curled up in his bed, saying he has felt tired all day long and must have fallen asleep somewhere in the sunlit summer garden. The muddy shoes in the corner of his closet betray each and every one of his words. It was so much _fun_. Both Roger and Regina know that it isn’t always wise to be reasonable if you want to stay alive.

 

Roger follows Brian up the narrow staircase to his and Freddie’s apartment. His world is a bit distorted and his brain feels like jelly, but it feels good, a bit as if he’s floating underwater in the middle of a pool while still being able to breathe.

 

Then he hears Brian’s keys clink when he unlocks the door and suddenly feels sober.

 

He wants Brian.

 

It is stupid.

 

He has no idea what he’s doing.

 

He wants to be in this band and not fuck it up before it even started by making a move on Brian.

 

But he wants _Brian_ –

 

They are inside the living room slash kitchen now and Brian turns around to switch the light on or to say something. He never gets to go through with it because Roger’s hand lands on his hip and he steps closer. Brian wishes he hadn’t drunk so much because this is _wrong_ , so very wrong. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Roger’s troubled and intoxicated state, he barely knows him, he likes him, he doesn’t want to fuck it up, but now Roger is moving towards him and his hands are warm and his breath is warm and his lips –

 

Roger breathes Brian in, his lips are soft and move so tenderly against his own that Roger isn’t sure if he deserves this. Brian pulls the open jacket off of Roger’s shoulders without breaking contact and wraps his arms around him, and Roger pushes into him as if he wants to crawl inside his skin. It’s Roger’s first real kiss, there was only one bloke and it was _bad_ , all clashing teeth and the sudden realization that he didn’t like the guy as much as he thought.

 

Brian pulls back, holding Roger’s wrists for a moment to stop him from continuing his mission of melting Brian on the spot.

 

“Are you sure you want this?”, Brian whispers. “We are both drunk, and we both know that’s not a good idea with the band, and if this is only a spur of the moment thing then…”

 

“I like the spur of the moment”, Roger says and presses a kiss to the corner of Brian’s mouth. “Please Brian, please… I want to be yours.” Regina doesn’t like to beg. Maybe Roger does. _Let me be me for a while longer. With you._

 

Roger frees his wrists and draws Brian into an open-mouthed kiss, slips his fingers under Brian’s shirt and lets them roam over his chest, his nipples, dips them into the front of his pants but doesn’t reach down completely, causing Brian to throw his doubts overboard and jerk into Roger’s touch, moaning at the sensation of the slightly calloused fingers on his skin.

 

Brian’s hands squeeze Roger’s ass and Roger lifts his right leg and wraps it around Brian’s hips and then the left one follows. He moans when his throbbing erection touches Brian’s stomach. The guitarist carries him to the bedroom, stumbling a bit because of the added weight, the slight tipsiness and the fact that Roger keeps kissing every part of his face that he can reach, _scenting_ his curly hair and grinding against him. It’s probably a miracle they make it to Brian’s bed without tumbling to the ground.

 

They fall on the bed, Roger on his back, Brian above him, arms left and right from Roger’s head. Both are breathing heavily due to the tension in the air. The little light that comes in from the window is enough for them to look into each other’s eyes.

 

Roger can’t _believe_ that he is here with _wonderful_ , wonderful Brian staring at _him, him, him_ with soft longing in his eyes. He has dreamt of moments like this, someone looking at him like this, wanting him and _loving_ him although he knows it is stupid to think about a word like this in context with someone he has only just met. She doesn’t _allow_ herself to think like this. NO.

 

He tries to push all thoughts and aspects of Regina out of his head, but it leaves an empty space because he knows she is a part of him and not a separate person.

 

He tries to concentrate on the fire coursing through his veins, the _desire_ , the need to feel good, to find release, to make Brian _fuck_ him.

 

He grinds upwards, puts one leg around Brian’s hips again to get some leverage, he _humps_ , trying to escape his mind and get his instincts in control, digging his fingers into Brian’s shoulders.

 

It’s all foggy, he can’t see for some reason, everything is blurred and his head feels heavy and wrong, his eyes keep moving in their sockets and he can’t stop them, he throws his head from left to right violently, trying to shake the thing off that’s blocking him, but it seems to be inside his head, it is inside and he can’t get it out –

 

“Roger, stop!”

 

Suddenly he can’t move his head anymore, soft but strong things keep him in place, are on his cheeks, hands, it must be hands. His hips are not moving anymore although his erection is still there, adding to the tension inside of him that feels uncomfortable now. He wraps both his legs around Brian again to ground himself and Brian sinks down on his chest to keep him there, careful to not put all his weight on Roger.

 

“Roger! Roger, breathe! Breathe with me, okay? In… out…”

 

Roger tries to focus on Brian’s words, the weight on him calms him down as well as being called by his chosen name. Brian’s presence is everywhere, his body and his hands on his cheeks, the sound of his voice, his scent.

 

He breathes in heavily and almost chokes on the sudden onslaught of oxygen.

 

It takes a moment for him to realize that the sobs he hears are his own and that the wetness on his face and between his cheeks and Brian’s hands comes from the tears that are running over his face.

 

“That’s good, just breathe. Nothing is happening, you are fine.” Brian’s voice is calm and soothing, and Roger closes his eyes, pressing his lips together. His mind is clear now, but in return he feels _exhausted_ now, almost all the tension leaving his body at once.

 

A high-pitched hum escapes him when Brian tenderly touches his brows and his cheeks with his lips, his breath warm but cold on his skin due to the tear tracks. Brian begins to sing silently and it sounds beautiful, carrying Roger away into sleep.

 

***

 

Roger wakes up in Brian’s arms, a warm sunbeam tickling his nose through the glass of the window. It takes him a second to notice where he is, and that Brian is awake, slowly drawing circles on his chest.

 

“I’m sorry”, is the first thing Roger says.

 

“It’s fine”, Brian says, his fingers not pausing, a gesture that grounds Roger immensely, and then, “What happened?”

 

“I panicked.”, Roger says. “I’m sorry. This is not what you signed up for and you deserve better. I’ll just go.” He sits up and scoots over to the edge of the bed to get up.

 

“No!”, Brian says and sits up as well, “I just wanted to understand what happened, but it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t owe me anything. I would just like to know… was it something I did?”

 

Roger can’t believe the question considering how tender and caring Brian has been, especially in contrast to his own brutish and shameful behaviour.

 

“No, Brian, you… you were perfect. I’m sorry for the panic attack, it happens sometimes but I really don’t know why it had to happen in that moment. It has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

 

“Okay”, Brian says as if it actually is okay and as if the night wasn’t a complete disaster. Roger tucks his shirt into his jeans and tightens the belt that Brian must to have loosened after he fell asleep. So thoughtful. He walks into the living room to collect his shoes and puts them on. Brian follows him. Roger notices that he is only wearing boxer shorts and the shirt he had on last night. And wool socks. If he wasn’t so tense, Roger would ask himself if Brian is one of those people who like to keep their socks on during sex, but ninety percent of his thoughts seem to be fixed on the door that leads out of the apartment and the other ten percent are worried about Regina’s absence from the castle now that the time to sleep is over. He slips into his jacket when the door he wants to vanish through opens and a man about his own age emerges, black hair, dark, sparkling eyes, a toothy, inviting smile on his face.

 

“Hello, darlings!”, he says and crouches down to pet the black and red checkered cat that comes running from the room that is not Brian’s when she hears the man’s voice.

 

“I’m Freddie!”, Freddie says and lifts the cat into his arms.

 

“Roger”, Roger says and eyes the door, causing Brian to jump into action.

 

“Hey Fred. Roger, uhm… I’ll be at the animal rescue Sunday afternoon, do you… maybe you want to come?”

 

Roger stares at him, clearly surprised.

 

“You don’t have to, I mean… Do you know where it is?”

 

“Yes”, Roger says. “I know.”

 

“Good, good…”, Brian says nervously when Roger doesn’t keep talking.

 

“I’m sorry, I really have to go now, I’m already late.”

 

Before Brian has a chance to say anything, Roger runs to the door, slams it shut and Brian and Freddie can hear his hurried footsteps down the stairs as he flees the building.

 

“Is he going to be there?”, Brian asks.

 

“Dear, I don’t know that!”, Freddie says sarcastically. He watches Brian’s shoulders drop and takes pity on him. “I really don’t know Brian. The only things I know about him are that his name is Roger and that a minute ago he ran out of here like he was struck by lightning. Here, hold my cat.” He gives the cat to Brian who promptly start petting it with a sad look in his eyes. “You won’t run away, will you?”, he whispers, wishing Roger could hear him.


	3. Walking the dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Roger are partners in crime. Brian and Roger talk and Roger wishes he could turn back time and he is sure Brian thinks the same.

 Roger knows he can’t pass through one of the garden gates during daylight, climbing over the fence somewhere else is definitely safer. He goes for it, careful to keep away from the sharp tips of the metal posts and jumps onto the ground on the other side in a swift movement. Nervously sneaking from bush to bush, he doesn’t see one of the security men who just rounds a corner behind him. Then he hears the sound of crunching gravel under the man’s shoes and turns around.

 

“Hey, you! Stay where you are! Hands in the air!”

 

Roger runs, trying to reach a side entrance to the castle even though it’s futile now that he’s been seen anyway. He is faster than the security guy and he has a bit of a head start. Later it is crystal clear to him that he should have surrendered instead of running. Right now it’s not. A painful buzz hits him, an electric shock to his chest, and he crumbles to the ground with a groan, clutching his shoulders in pain.

 

A second security man got him. _You must be so fucking pleased with yourself right now_ , Roger thinks, _if only you knew who you electrocuted._

 

They grab his arms and drag him through the backdoor he was going for and don’t stop until he’s in a room he has never seen before. There is only a table in the middle and a few chairs. The two men throw him onto one of those, towering over him with crossed arms and serious frowns on their faces.

 

“We’d like to see your ID please”, one of them says. “I don’t guess you have a visitor ID card.”

 

“I don’t have it with me”, he says. He doesn’t and even if he did, it says Regina on it. But they’ll find out anyway. Or maybe they’ll just throw him out on the street? Doesn’t look like it though. The bigger and stronger looking one seizes Roger’s collar, pulling him up from the chair, turning him around as if he is a doll and restraining him with ease. The other man taps his hands over Roger’s torso and his legs like it would be done at an airport in a security search; then he reaches into his pockets, finding nothing but a few coins and bank notes that are left from the money Roger stole from John.

 

“Why did you break into the property?” They throw him onto the chair again.

 

“I wanted to see the flowers”, Roger quips. If nothing else, he can still be sarcastic.

 

“The flowers, huh? We have all day, young man. What’s your name?”

 

Before Roger can make up a name, the door opens.

 

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll take it from here.”, John says and steps into the room. Roger has never been so glad to see his friend. The security guys don’t look very convinced, actually they seem to be holding back a laugh. John doesn’t strike them as very intimidating.

 

“You? That’s none of your business! You babysit the princess, we keep strangers away from her. You do your job, and we do ours.”

 

“I’m afraid the queen and the princess respectively decide what is my business and what isn’t while I’m at work. If you’d like to explain to them personally why you kept me from obeying a direct order, you are welcome to do that. I don’t think either of them will be thankful for you wasting their time on this.”

 

They don’t look happy, but they let him go, John grabbing him roughly by the arm. Roger is not sure if he’s trying to keep up the pretence in front of the security or if it’s personal frustration with him.

 

Once again Roger is being dragged through the hallways and up the stairs. John checks if anyone can see them before pushing Roger into his (Regina’s) room and closing the door behind himself. Roger falls on the bed, his head still buzzing a little bit with the aftermath of the electroshock. Can’t anything ever go according to plan?

 

“What the _fuck_ , Roger? You were gone the whole morning, _probably the night too_ and you let yourself get caught by your _own_ security? What would you have done if I hadn’t seen you from the window?” John’s voice is as calm as ever, but Roger can hear annoyance and worry in his undertone.

 

“Mh!”, Roger groans into the mattress.

 

“Where were you?”

 

“How was your date?”

 

“My what? It was very romantic, thank you. _Where were you?_ And did you steal money from me?”

 

“I needed to pay for a taxi. I’m sorry, I’ll give it back, you know I don’t have simple access to cash.”

 

John lets out a sigh and falls on his back next to Roger who is laying face-down on his stomach.

 

“You know the security is being upped for a while after they catch someone.”

 

“I know. I didn’t plan on this. Sneaking is hard.”

 

“I can imagine.”

 

Roger looks up.

 

“Okay, not really. I don’t like… sneaking. Intrigues. Secret plans.”, John says.

 

“It’s good that you work for a fake princess then”, Roger snorts.

 

“Are you going to tell me or is this going to be another one of your secrets?”, John asks softly.

 

“You have to promise not to tell.”

 

“You know I won’t. Doesn’t mean I won’t try to talk you out of it though, depending on what it is.”

 

“I met someone”, Roger says, deciding that he can’t talk about the band. Besides, he isn’t even sure he is still in the band. Or if he ever was in. Well, technically he was. For one evening.

 

“Who? When?”, John asks.

 

“At the wildlife thingy.”

 

“What? You told him or her who you _are_?!”

 

“Noooooo!”, Roger moans.

 

“I met him as Roger separately.”

 

“Ok.”, John says. “How is that even possible?”

 

“It doesn’t matter how I met him”, Roger sighs. “And I fucked it up anyway.”

 

Both boys lay next to each other in silence.

 

“No chance anymore?”, John asks after a while and turns his head to Roger. He does the same, using his arms as a pillow.

 

“He asked me to meet him tomorrow. But I don’t think he wants to be with me.”

 

“But if he asked you, how is that supposed to indicate he _doesn’t_ want to be with you?”

 

“I’m a mess, John. You know this. He deserves better than that, I don’t want to pull him into all of this. Not to mention that I would have to tell him about Regina sometime, about being the future queen of England. That’s so fucked up.”

 

“Did you sleep with him?”, John whispers, grinning suggestively.

 

“No, I didn’t…”, Roger blushes. “But he was so… Brian…”, he says in lack of a fitting word.

 

“ _Brian_.”, John says, causing Roger to punch his arm lightly. “Stop it, John!”, he laughs. “So, how was it with Veronica?”

 

“We’re walking her dog tomorrow.”, John smiles.

 

“Walking the dog. That’s what the kids call it these days?” Roger wiggles his eyebrows.

 

“I’ll see her at the wildlife rescue where we first met because the landscape is nice there, and we are going to take a walk. With her dog.”

 

“Sounds exciting.”, Roger teases.

 

“As if you would say no to a walk with _Brian_. Oh wait, you did. And I don’t know why. As your designated babysitter I am pleased that you’re not planning on sneaking out again, as your advisor I am pleased that you don’t pursue a relationship yet in favour of your studies, and as your friend I am not pleased at all because I can see that you really like this Brian, your eyes get all dreamy when you say or hear his name!”

 

“He actually invited me to the wildlife rescue too. Tomorrow afternoon. I mean, if you’re going there anyway, I could… come with, maybe…?” Roger chews on his lips, his heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Brian again, excitement mixes with anxiety.

 

“As your babysitter and advisor, I have to tell you that this is not possible”, John says. “As your friend I have a civil car that is parked in the royal garage and that has a trunk big enough to hold one Roger-sized person.”

 

“It worries me that _babysitter_ is always the first thing you say in that kind of sentences.”

 

They lay in silence again and Roger makes his decision.

 

***

 

John never wanted to disobey the queen.

 

Veronica makes him see things in a new light.

 

He likes to think logically and rationally, and he knows his sudden change of mind towards Roger’s escapades is probably the result of what they call the honeymoon phase. Still, he can’t help but want to make it easier for Roger. Secret visits to drag races, horse races or roller coasters are different from wanting to meet a friend or a lover. John knows how hard it all is on Roger.

 

When he starts his job by princess Regina’s side at eighteen years old, they let him in on the whole complot after making him sign some papers that promise terrible pain should he expose it willingly to the public.

 

He almost can’t believe Regina was born a boy until he is called into her room one evening, a young man standing by the open window, smoking a Cuban cigar, wearing elegant but slim pinstripe trousers and a white button-up shirt with half the buttons undone, exposing his flat chest.

                                                                                                                                                          

“Hey John! I’m Roger.”, he grins, hiding his nervousness by taking another drag.

 

“Okay”, John says, making a mental note to never judge a book by its cover ever again although after a while he is sure that _Roger_ is partially make-believe – just as much as Regina.

 

The funny thing is that Roger is in tune with Regina at that point in time. He has fun being her (not always but mostly) and ventures outside with John and a few bodyguards often, doing all sorts of things. John is being told that as a teen, Roger used to sneak out by himself sometimes, doing things as Roger and not Regina, but he stopped eventually, agreeing that it was too dangerous (in reality he never did, but he toned it down almost completely). Now two years have gone by and Roger got more and more depressed, struggling with the realization that this is really happening – he’s going to be a queen and he can’t get out of it ever.

 

John gets to know both Roger and Regina, two sides of the same coin, befriends them and now he has to watch one of them trying to erase the other without Roger grasping that both need to be intact to make it whole. His psychologist tries to tell him again and again, but it doesn’t reach Roger at all. He fights it too hard.

 

Roger folds himself into the trunk of John’s car on top of the blankets he put there, and after they’ve driven for about ten minutes, John stops at the side of the road and Roger hops into the passenger’s seat, not without running his fingers through his hair in the side mirror.

 

“Need to look good for _Brian_ ”, John grins. Roger throws him a deadly glare. “I know for a fact that you’re wearing _perfume_ , John, I fucking know how you smell normally”, he quips.

 

He isn’t sure how Brian is going to react after he sprinted out of the building yesterday morning. _Get a grip, Roger_ , Regina says in his head, blue eyeliner amplifying the piercing look she would give him or anyone who is having anxious, petty thoughts that make everything more complicated than it is.

 

“Please don’t do anything stupid and stay on the property. I’ll come find you when we’re back from our walk.”, John says.

 

“Right. _Walking the dog_.” Roger smirks.

 

“Roger, we _are_ walking her dog!”, John replies lamely.

 

“Sure. Have fun”, Roger winks suggestively and watches as John rounds the corner of the main house. He hears the excited barking of a dog and a woman’s happy laugh as Veronica greets her date.

 

His number one annoying habit – biting his lips – makes an appearance again. It’s mostly Roger’s habit and not Regina’s since Regina usually wants her lip gloss or lipstick to stay where it belongs. He makes his way over to the barn. One side of the big door is open, held in place by a single brick. A glance inside confirms his suspicion. Someone with a curly mop of hair is kneeling on the ground behind a small moveable fence, doing something Roger can’t see because his back is turned.

 

“Hey Brian”, Roger says. His voice sounds alarming in his own ears, like he just told Brian he’s kneeling in dog crap instead of saying hi. He curses his nerves inwardly. Brian stands up before turning around, a small creature in his arms. Endorphins flood Roger’s brain just from looking at Brian’s face and the strong reaction unsettles him, but he still manages to identify the animal as a hedgehog. Right, Brian mentioned hedgehogs at one point or another.

 

 _Stop moping, Brian!_ Veronica’s words ring in Brian’s ears. _Maybe he’ll come after all?_

 

“You came”, Brian says, clearly surprised.

 

“I did”, Roger says. They stand there for a moment. Roger wipes his sweaty hands on his pants. Finally, Brian steps forward. They meet at the knee-high fence, and Brian reaches over it, still holding the small hedgehog.

 

“Do you want to hold him?”

 

Roger nods shyly.

 

“Put your hands together like mine. Here”, Brian says. Roger almost pulls his hands back as Brian’s fingertips touch his own. The hedgehog sniffs Roger’s palms and waddles over. Brian lowers his hands but stays close in case something goes wrong. The tiny paws feel strange but not unwelcome on Roger’s hands and he smiles when the animal licks his wrist gently.

 

“What’s his name?”, he asks quietly.

 

“Jimi. Like Jimi Hendrix”, Brian says and smiles at the way Roger’s face lights up at the small creature. Then Roger looks up into Brian’s eyes and Brian thinks he couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

 

“I uhm… I just wanted to ask if I’m still in the band?”, Roger asks. Brian’s smile wanes a bit.

 

“Sure, if you want to be. You are the best drummer I ever heard.” Roger nods, looking at Jimi again. “Is that the only reason you came here today?”

 

“Well, I wanted to apologize. To you. Because… You know…”

 

“You already did that yesterday.”

 

“Did what?”

 

“Apologize. You apologized”, Brian says. His voice is as calm as yesterday, in the night, when he calmed Roger down and sang him to sleep.

 

“Right.” Roger doesn’t add that he ran away after his apology and that this might make another apology necessary.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Please stop apologizing, Roger.”

 

“Sor…”, Roger starts but Brian interrupts him. “Just say thank you instead. And once is enough.”

 

“Thanks. For being… Brian.”, Roger says – once again in lack of a fitting word to describe him –, incapable of keeping the smile off his face while saying Brian’s name.

 

Brian chuckles.

 

“Do you like me?”, Roger says.

 

_Enter Roger, twenty-three years old, future queen of England, incapable of being a normal person and holding a conversation while not being inebriated._

 

He seems to have rendered Brian speechless and he is not sure if this is a good thing or not.

 

“I thought it was kind of obvious. Of course I _like_ you, Roger.”

 

Roger would like to do something now, but he has a hedgehog on his hands. He feels like an alien.

 

“Good, good.”

 

Silence again.

 

“Can I put him down?” Roger asks in a too-high voice. Brian takes Jimi from him and puts him on the ground inside the enclosure. Brian steps over the fence and stands in front of Roger again. Roger, unsure of what to say, lets his heart override his brain for once and puts his arms around Brian, pulling him into a hug. He thanks the heavens when Brian hugs him back. Maybe talking is not extremely necessary?

 

“Let’s just see what comes out of this?”, Brian says. “And you still want to be our drummer, right?”

 

“That’s what I said.”, Roger says. The hug ends slowly.

 

“Do you want to help me feed the hedgehogs? I need to warm up some milk, they drink it from a bottle.”

 

“I have time until John comes back. The hedgehogs are cute…”, Roger answers.

 

“John? You mean John Deacon who is on a date with Veronica right now?”

 

“On a _walk_ , yes.”

 

“He works as princess Regina’s personal assistant apparently. How do you know him?”

 

“ _Advisor,_ not assistant”, Roger corrects automatically. After a moment he adds vaguely: “We are friends. We went to school together, that’s how we met.” _Bad, bad, bad._ His armpits are getting wet. Roger doesn’t want to lie to Brian. But he _does_.

 

“He seems young for a royal advisor.”

 

“He is a valuable companion, very clever and good at analysing stuff. He is perfect for the job.”

 

“I don’t doubt his abilities, I don’t know him, but he is lucky to have you as a friend.”

 

“Why?”, Roger asks, genuinely surprised. They are in the kitchen now and Brian sets to work, filling the water cooker and mixing a bit of cold water with a measured amount of special milk powder for the hedgehogs.

 

“Because it is clear that you really like him when you talk about him.”, Brian mixes all the stuff in two baby bottles and a thermos can and makes sure the temperature is right.

 

“He is also a know-it-all sometimes, scared of adventures and fun and he has never had a drop of alcohol in his life.”

 

“You seem to know him very well. I’m almost a bit jealous, I must say.”

 

“Of me for knowing John?” Roger is confused. Brian smiles.

 

“No. But it means that he probably knows you very well too, doesn’t it?”

 

“I guess so…”

 

The butterflies in Roger’s chest flap happily and a tinge of red appears on his cheeks. They make their way back to the barn. Brian gives one of the smaller hedgehogs to Roger and shows him how to feed it by demonstrating it on a different one. It helps a lot that “Lady” already knows how bottles work and after accidentally spilling a bit of milk on his clothes, Roger figures it out too. Brian watches fondly how carefully he feeds and pets Lady, the joy apparent in his eyes, only leaving the hedgehog to look up and glance at Brian from time to time.

 

It’s a lot harder to talk to Brian than it was on Friday. Roger credits that to his own stupidity, his panic attack in Brian’s bed and his flight the morning after. The tension is high, it’s not exactly an easy-going conversation. But it doesn’t feel wrong, only a bit difficult, and it feels incredibly easy and right to _do_ things with Brian, to take care of hedgehogs and sit in silence and communicate through eye contact instead of words. It almost causes Roger physical pain when Brian’s hands brush his when he helps him with his hedgehog because he wants more of Brian’s touch. What he is thinking about is not sex, it’s intimacy. He is scared, but he knows he wants it. It’s nothing new. He is used to fear the things he wishes for.

 

John comes back almost too soon and since Veronica has to go and Regina has been missing in action for a long while now (it’s Sunday, the chances people at the castle are looking for her are not very high since she likes to spend time alone in her room or the music room), they get going and Roger has to say good-bye to Brian.

 

Roger hopes for a kiss, but it seems that Brian is just as insecure as he is about the status of their relationship, and so they settle for a long, tight hug during which he buries his nose in Roger’s long hair.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Imperial?”, Brian whispers and Roger nods, glad that John is not standing close enough to them to hear it and ask him questions later. He might have helped him to sneak out today – regular missions like band meetings are a different cup of tea though, Roger thinks. On the drive home he is quiet and John is, too; he seems to be thinking about Veronica still, judging by the absent smile. _If only it were so simple for me and Brian._ Roger lets out a sigh and continues to stare out of the window, fantasizing about a perfect world until John pulls up on the sidewalk and he climbs into the trunk again.

 

People have noticed Regina’s absence. Nobody has been searching for her though since John spread the rumour of her having a headache and wanting rest and undisturbed peace before they left. Roger sneaks into his room and soon Regina makes an appearance to soothe the minds of those who worried but were to wary of Regina’s infamous temper to knock on her room against her wishes.

 

Afterwards Regina falls onto the soft dark red sheets of her bed, her thoughts inevitably wandering to Brian. She can’t help but think of his beautiful eyes and how they look when they are full of lust. Closing her own eyes, she lets her hands roam over her chest, reaches down and pulls up her dress to run her fingertips over her exposed stomach, imagining Brian’s touch instead. She closes her hand around her cock and pumps, varying speed and pressure, fantasizing about how it would feel to be kissed by Brian, to have him slip his tongue into her mouth, graze his teeth over her skin, let his fingers dance over her body, _fill_ her and _release_ himself inside of her.

 

She comes with his name trembling on her lips, ruining her dress in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> I didn't read this again after writing it, sry for any mistakes. And I don't know how hedgehogs work, I didn't even google it, so please don't use this as a manual for hedgehog care. ;P
> 
> If you like the story and have a minute pleeease leave a comment and tell me what you think :)


	4. Doing alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger fucks up. Brian is only human. Freddie just wants to knock some sense into them, but it looks like he may have reached the end of his wits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I feel like a TRIGGER WARNING may be necessary here for anxiety and bad thoughts. Stay safe, my darling readers! ;P  
> I actually planned something for this chapter and then I wrote something completely different of course. xD But I know what's going to happen next, so that's good.  
> This chapter is not extremely long but kind of heavy maybe? I promise it will get better though.  
> Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes. ^^  
> You're VERY welcome to leave your thoughts in a short or long review of course! :)  
> 

Tim is not the first person Roger meets when he enters Imperial College. It’s not Brian either.

 

He is trying to remember how to get to the jazz room when someone touches his shoulder in the hallway.

 

“Hi, Roger!”, the man says with a sincere smile. A cigarette is dangling from his lips and Roger briefly wonders if that’s allowed inside this building before he decides it doesn’t matter. It’s Brian’s flatmate.

 

“Hey, uh…”

 

“Freddie.”, Freddie says and shakes his hand. Roger nods.

 

“You remember me.”, Roger says.

 

“It would’ve been hard not to, with your dramatic exit. But mostly because Brian seems to have lost his ability to talk about anything but you. ‘Roger’s hair is so shiny, Roger’s eyes are deeper than Mariana Trench and as blue as the sea, Roger is so beautiful and pure! When Roger drums it’s like the he plays the heartbeat of the universe out loud, _and_ _you should’ve seen how Roger pet the hedgehogs_ , I almost couldn’t handle it…’ It’s absolutely sickening.” Freddie grins. Roger blushes.

 

“Hello…”, Brian says weakly, making both Roger and Freddie jump in surprise. The colour of Brian’s face matches Roger’s and he holds his guitar case in a death grip.

 

“Didn’t see you coming”, Freddie says and takes a drag from his cigarette.

 

“Hey, Roger… I still had your drumsticks, you forgot them in our apartment, I forgot yesterday…”, Brian mumbles uncomfortably and holds out the sticks, glad when Roger doesn’t tease him and steps forward to engulf him in a warm hug instead. He can’t keep himself from pressing an innocent, light kiss to Brian’s jaw. It causes the guitarist to suck in too much air at once. He coughs. Freddie rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh my god, it’s real”, Freddie whispers under his breath and shakes his head in fake disapproval.

 

They make their way to the jazz room and Freddie tags along, too. Tim is already there, and Brian introduces him and Roger. Freddie sits on top of the grand piano, still smoking his cigarette while the other three get their instruments ready.

 

“Let’s start with ‘Doing alright’”, Tim says. “Do you remember how it goes, Roger?”

 

“Uh, actually I don’t…”, Roger says. “Sorry, I don’t really know any of your songs…”

 

“Brian said you heard us play before.” Tim frowns and looks at Brian.

 

“I said he said he heard _about_ us before”, Brian says.

 

“Yes, I did, but unfortunately I didn’t have the opportunity to go to one of your concerts. I heard you’re really good, but somehow it never worked out and then I saw the flyer…” Roger tries to keep his voice calm and steady.

 

“It’s fine. We’ll just play it for you without the drums once or twice. I wrote it down as sheet music too, except for the drums... Do you think you can come up with something that fits then?” Brian doesn’t look phased, but Roger can see that Tim is a bit annoyed. Understandably so, since he assumed Roger knew their music a bit at least… It makes Roger a bit anxious. He needs to be good enough and he’ll do his absolute best to come up with a beat that blows Tim and Brian away. And Freddie, who is watching them curiously from his spot on the grand piano.

 

They start playing the song. It starts off with the piano and then Brian joins with his guitar. Roger notes the tempo changes and everything and Brian explains to him how their last drummer played it when they are finished. Roger imagines how it must have sounded and then asks them to play it again, fusing this new knowledge with his own ideas. He decides to use the drumsticks Brian gave back to him, puts the new ones he brought next to Freddie, and sits down behind the kit.

 

“Ok, I think I have something”, he says. Freddie looks intrigued and he watches in wonder how Roger makes the drums sing. While he doesn’t nail it perfectly at the first try (he’s only human after all), he still baffles the others with his technique and the way he seems to harmonize with Brian’s guitar effortlessly. Tim overcomes his initial doubts very quickly and everyone is pleased at the end of the session.

 

“We have a gig at a local pub in four weeks, that should be enough time for us to make it good, right?”, Tim says happily as they exit the building.

 

“We should practice as much as possible, a few times a week”, Brian replies, “so we don’t fuck it up like last time. It was a disaster”, he says to Roger, “and our last drummer quit afterwards.”

 

“Well, now you have me.”, Roger smirks. Inwardly he curses himself. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to make it to practice that often after all. It was so easy in his mind – before it became real. Honestly, he didn’t think he would get this far along with his plan. Not because of his drumming skills – he knows he is good – but because of the logistics. And because he fucked up with Brian. Part of him wishes something or someone in his way would have stopped him because it would be a lot easier for Regina. And the danger of letting Brian and Tim down wouldn’t exist. A stronger voice tells him that it wouldn’t be better for him though; considering how depressed he has been for what feels like ages, living most of his days on autopilot and developing a tendency for nervous breakdowns along the way. Maybe change is exactly what he needs. There is a price to pay for any option.

 

***

 

The next days go by in a rush. Roger is awfully busy, Regina minding her duties – her studies, meetings, public appearances – and Roger often slips out of the window in the evenings to attend band practice. Sometimes he forgoes one of Regina’s events by making up medical excuses. _Weirdly enough_ , the doctor she is forced to see therefore finds nothing unusual. He concludes that the source of Regina’s aches must be stress and that serves Roger well enough. Still, his opportunities are limited, and he can’t go out for any extra adventures, too scared to get caught – since that would likely put his band membership to a sudden end.

 

So he says no when Brian asks him out for drinks after practice or for dates at the wildlife rescue, at a coffeeshop or anywhere else. It pains him to do it and he smiles apologetically at Brian every time. He says he has family and university and work things to attend to and is just too busy or too tired, and he always adds that he would love to go and that he hates that it’s not possible right now.

 

Brian’s sad puppy eyes almost make him weak enough to give in, but he stays strong. At least that’s what he tells himself.

 

Band practice is still good, but Brian pulls back after being rejected a few times. His hugs get shorter and less indulging, and Freddie watches it all with concern. He is with them at least twice a week and listens to their music from his spot on the grand piano.

 

Two and a half weeks after it all began, Roger reaches the jazz room too early (something which never happened before), but Freddie is already there when he arrives, and he hears him play the piano on his own, singing along passionately. Roger is surprised, but when Freddie sees him, he isn’t given the opportunity to compliment him.

 

“What are you doing, Roger?”, Freddie asks, not hostile, but with definite criticism in his voice.

 

“What? What are you talking about, Fred?” Roger hops up on the grand piano to sit where Freddie usually parks himself. In the short time they’ve known each other, he has developed an easy-going companionship with him despite keeping a certain distance to everyone. He is caught off guard by being called out like this.

 

“I’m talking about Brian”, Freddie says. Roger tenses up. His voice drops when he replies.

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“I can see the way you look at him when he’s not watching.”

 

“Why, how do I look at him?” Roger presses his thumbnails into the callouses on his fingertips, avoiding Freddie’s piercing gaze.

 

“Like you want to lick his face and his dick and brush his hair and make him explain all the constellations and things in the sky to you even though you’ve never wasted a thought to them before.” Now Roger does look at him, slightly weirded out by Freddie’s picture painting. “You like him, Roger. A lot. I know it. Tim knows it. The cleaning lady who saw you two together in the hallway last Thursday knows it. And Brian knew it, but you don’t behave like it anymore. Brian _likes_ you, _a lot_. I have to watch you both pining and sometimes have eye-sex with each other while playing. I didn’t want to say anything because I know it’s none of my business. But Brian is my friend. You’re breaking his heart, Roger. Why are you rejecting him if you are obviously in love with him? What’s holding you back?”

 

Roger opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He can feel tears forming in his eyes and his breath getting shorter.

 

“I don’t have time for a relationship, Freddie”, he chokes out and digs his nails into one of his thighs.

 

“You have time for band practice, Roger. Even if you don’t have any more time, and I can’t really believe that, you could still make it work somehow.”, Freddie says softly. He considers Roger a friend too, and it was not his intention to make him cry. He just wants to help those two idiots.

 

“And if you really can’t find a way to be with him, please tell him that nothing is ever going to happen anymore. He still has hope and it’s killing him. He is suffering just as much as you are.” Freddie knows those words are going to hurt, but it’s true and he feels it needs to be said. He thinks about the resigned look in Brian’s eyes when he told Freddie he would stop trying to ask Roger out now because he never says yes and it hurts too much, and how Roger never really answered when Brian asked what the problem is. He thinks about the tears that ran down Brian’s cheeks silently. In the best case, Roger is going to realize that he’s just holding himself back and he’ll figure things out.

 

He stands up and walks over to Roger who is still sitting on the grand piano, silent and unmoving like he has turned into stone, his face covered by one of his hands. The other one still digs into his thigh violently.

 

“Roger…” Freddie touches his knee in a gesture of comfort, thinking that Roger could use a hug. He’s ready to apologize for being somewhat direct and wants to tell him that he is his friend, that he can tell him what the problem is, that he won’t tell anyone.

 

Roger’s hands push Freddie away with enough force to make him stumble two steps back. He jumps down from the grand piano and looks Freddie dead in the eye, their faces no more than ten inches away from each other now. Unmasked hurt, anger and _ferocity_ gleam in Roger’s watery eyes and render Freddie speechless for a moment.

 

Freddie expects Roger to say something aggressive and hurtful now and he almost thinks he deserves it. He should have been gentler, chosen his words more carefully… But the thunderstorm doesn’t come. He has no idea how Roger does it, but somehow his voice sounds hollow and silent and at the same time compressed, like all his feelings about the subject are bottled up behind those few words.

 

“You don’t know who I am, Freddie. And I’m not allowed to tell you. I _can’t_.”

 

Freddie is cautious not to break eye contact because somehow, he is sure that Roger would run away. He picks his words slowly this time.

 

“Is it dangerous for you, or for any of us?”

 

Roger contemplates the answer. The question obviously throws him off. Freddie sees the confusion in his eyes and how his breath evens out a little bit.

 

“N-Not really, no.”

 

“Is someone threatening you in any kind of way?”

 

“No…”, Roger says although he feels differently, and he is not sure what kind of hell would break loose if he ever came out of the princess-closet to the public.

 

“I’m good at keeping secrets”, Freddie says reassuringly and raises one eyebrow. It elicits a bitter chuckle from the other man. “Brian too. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

 

“You wouldn’t even believe me.”

 

“Try me”, Freddie says.

 

Roger opens his mouth to say something and in that exact moment the door to the jazz room opens.

 

It’s Brian.

 

“What happened?” The guitarist takes in the scene before him; Roger with red, swollen eyes and still half-crying but with a furious edge to it all. Freddie stands in front of him, worry and curiosity written over his features. Brian puts his guitar and his bag down.

 

“Roger?”

 

Roger is not sure what to do now. Brian reaches for his hand and then pulls back again. _He thinks I don’t want him_ , Roger thinks _. Freddie is right. What have I done?_

 

Freddie throws a pointed stare in Roger’s direction, hoping he’ll pick up the hint and say something.

 

“I’m an asshole”, he says with a bitter laugh. “and I know I don’t deserve it, but are we still friends?”

 

Brian opens his mouth in confusion and closes it again. “You owe me an explanation”, he says.

 

“I’d tell you one day”, Roger says, eyes cast to the floor, “and I want to, but I can’t tell you now.”

 

Freddie watches as tears collect in Brian’s eyes and he asks himself why those two only seem to make each other cry instead of working things out.

 

“You can’t do this to me, Roger. I don’t know anything about you”, Brian says, “except that I like you.”

 

“That’s not true”, Freddie says. The thought that maybe it would be useful to study psychology instead of design crosses his mind.

 

“What is the problem, Roger? I just… I honestly don’t know what to do”, Brian says.

 

“Me neither”, Roger whispers. “Maybe I should go.”

 

“What? No!”, Freddie protests. “Brian, do something!”, he says when Roger grabs the drumsticks he lay on the grand piano, slips into his jacket and walks towards the exit with tears in his eyes. “Bye, Freddie”, he says full of regret. He stops at the door and faces Brian one last time. “I’m so sorry, Brian. I wish I could tell you more about myself, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

 

Brian says nothing, completely overwhelmed by the situation. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say. Roger takes it as his cue and closes the door behind himself while Freddie hisses at Brian, urging him to act. Tim seems to be late, Roger doesn’t see him in the hallways. Nobody is there. When he reaches the main door of Imperial College, he hears someone’s hurried steps coming his way. It must be Freddie, chasing after him.

 

Roger runs.

 

He jumps into the first taxi he sees outside, sneaks over the fence, through the garden, up the fire escape and into his room. The adrenaline doesn’t want to leave his body, and he paces back and forth between the window and the door to the hallway, his breath coming in shorter as he tries to prevent hyperventilating, his eyes wide but dry, no tears left in his body.

 

He knows he’s having a panic attack. Unfortunately, he can’t remember anything he is supposed to do now according to his psychologist. He can’t focus his gaze or his thoughts on anything for longer than a split second – there is the window – garden where Roger got electroshocked – light beige wall – Regina’s princess room – dressing table – to paint Regina’s face – Eric’s hand on Regina’s shoulder – Regina’s teeth in Eric’s arm – Roger’s fury when he played his song on Brian’s guitar, wearing Regina’s dress – door to the hallway – John is somewhere in the vast castle but he could be anywhere – Brian’s hands on his bare skin under his shirt – the look of rejection in Brian’s eyes, the pain – Regina’s arrogance – Roger’s panic – no air in his lungs – always tears – weakness – the future, wearing the queen’s crown – marrying someone he’ll probably never love – children, how? – Roger, tearing off crown and wedding ring – slitting his wrists in the bathtub –jumping off the high tower of the castle –off a bridge –driving a car against a tree – or

 

Roger buries his hands in his hair, claws at the skin, whips his head from left to right. The vein in his neck cramps painfully. He stops pacing and crawls under his bed, rolls himself up in foetal position and rocks lightly, folding his arms over his head as if to protect himself, covering his ears. He can’t cry anymore.

 

This is how John finds him.


	5. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian is incapable of being consequent. Roger is a stubborn dork. John is done with all his shit and Freddie makes creative decisions.
> 
> or
> 
> Queen assembles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the late update... I hope you guys still want to read this! :-)
> 
> Also this is in British English now. I think. I defeated Microsoft Word Autocorrect after all and will update the other chapters accordingly.
> 
> I feel like this chapter is not as strong as some of the others, but I still hope you like!! Hopefully it'll get better from now on. :-)

John has a bad feeling in his gut. Something is wrong with Roger, he’s known that for a while. It’s not like he doesn’t notice it when the prince slips out of the castle in secret even though he is sure Roger believes that he no one knows. His friend can be dense like that. There have been _countless_ occasions where it was purely John’s interference that prevented Roger from getting caught or reprimanded.

 

Once again, Roger is not in his room this evening, as has been frequent during the last two weeks or so. Usually he comes back sometime between midnight and one o’clock and that’s when John decides to check on him today.

 

He knocks on Roger’s – or Regina’s – and gets no reply. Usually he would give up for the night or come back later, but the uneasy notion inside of him doesn’t wane.

 

His emergency key opens the lock. Inside it’s dark, the curtains moving a bit in the cool draft that origins from the half open window. The moonlight dips the room into a pale blueish twilight.

 

John turns on the big electric chandelier and is greeted by apparent emptiness. A whimper disturbs the silence and makes him crouch down on the carpet next to the nightstand. Under the bed is Roger. He is rolled into a ball and looks dreadful.

 

“Roger!”

 

Roger doesn’t react. John ends up pulling him out onto the carpet with gentle force. He wishes he would have interfered sooner than today.

 

“It’s going to be fine, Rog”, he says even though he doesn’t know how true that is. “Come on, let’s get all that sweat off of you, it’s going to make you feel better.” He somehow manages to manoeuvre his friend into the bathroom and soon Roger finds himself immersed in warm water, most of himself hidden under white foam. John sits on a stool next to the bathtub with his chin in his hands.

 

“It has something to with Brian, doesn’t it?”, John asks after a while. Roger nods. “Veronica told me he’s been moping when he was at the wildlife rescue.”

 

Roger lets himself sink down so his chin and mouth are underwater.

 

“I know you’ve been sneaking out. I’ve known for a long time.”

 

They are silent for a while.

 

Then Roger starts to talk, quietly at first. He rambles on about how he joined ‘Smile’, about Freddie and Tim and the tension with Brian at band practices at Imperial College. He even tells John about the night he spent at Brian’s and ends with today’s fight. John never interrupts, he just nods from time to time while everything Roger kept a secret from him bursts out and spills into the soapy air.

 

“I wish I never would have met Brian.”

 

“You only say this as a defence, Roger”, John says.

 

“Why, what am I supposed to say?”, Roger laughs bitterly.

 

“Freddie is right. You’re sabotaging yourself. You were scared to be rejected by Brian at some point, so you didn’t even give him a chance. You tried to eliminate the possibility of a relationship altogether. A lack of time was just an excuse. I know you’re good at deceiving yourself.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I successfully _did_ eliminate the possibility of being with him.” Roger snorts.

 

“There are always options. Maybe I’ll help you if you ask nicely.” John raises an eyebrow.

 

“How the fuck can you be so optimistic?”

 

“Someone has to be”, John says.

 

***

 

“Maybe they are not even going to be there!”

 

Roger whines, but John drags him along by his arm like a disobedient dog on a leash. A week has passed since the incident and Roger has attended his (Regina’s) duties with an “unladylike” scowl on his face (John describes it as rather “bitchy” in his mind). There were no more panic or anxiety attacks, instead Roger seemed to be boiling with anger more than half the time. Meanwhile, John has been plotting.

 

“They are here.”

 

“I can’t believe you called Freddie.”

 

“It made sense.”

 

Roger sighs as they enter the hallways of Imperial College.

 

“Freddie said he would talk to Brian about you, but I don’t know what he told him exactly.”

 

“That’s awesome.”

 

“You do want this Rog, don’t you? If you really want to turn around now, you can do that. Never mind the effort I…”

 

Roger turns around and runs, away from John, out of the building and onto the streets of London.

 

“… wasted on arranging this.”

 

John is standing in front of the Jazz room. He puts up with Roger’s shit all the time and it’s not a problem, but now he is seriously annoyed. Less than an hour ago, Roger told him about how he put Regina’s special lace panties on today to summon her courage or whatever (not that John really wants to know what kind of underwear Roger is wearing) – it obviously had no effect other than getting John’s hopes up that this could actually work.

 

“Thank you, John, you are a good friend!”, he says to himself in a high-pitched voice and pats his own shoulder.

 

“You’re welcome, Rog, I love to help you!”

 

The door opens and Freddie peaks out. “I thought I heard voices. You must be John Deacon. Hello! Is Roger not here? … Were you talking to yourself…?”

 

“I… no, he was here, but he just needs a minute. He went to the toilet. I think. Or for a smoke.”

 

“Oh, okay…” Freddie doesn’t seem convinced. “Would you like to come in? Tim and Brian are already here.”

 

They go inside, and John greets Brian and Tim. He has met Brian a few times at the wildlife rescue centre when he met Veronica there, but during the last few days it was as if Brian had decided that hedgehogs were suddenly not important anymore. Judging by the unhappy expression on Brian’s face right now, John is positive that he must have been just as insufferable to Freddie as Roger has been to him. On the other hand, he can’t imagine gentle Brian being worse than Regina channelling all her confidence and fieriness when something doesn’t go to her liking. After all, Regina and Roger are two sides of the same coin.

 

“Didn’t Roger want to come along?”, Brian asks, his eyes wandering from Freddie to John and back.

 

“Deacy said he’ll be here soon”, Freddie says.

 

“Deacy?”

 

“John is a bit boring, you must admit”, Freddie smiles shyly and touches his shoulder.

 

“I think John is fine”, John says, and as Freddies clutches his own chest dramatically, he adds: “But Deacy is okay too I guess.”

 

They all talk for a bit about nothing specific. The clock on the wall keeps ticking. There is no sign of Roger coming back.

 

“Didn’t Roger come here with you in the first place?”, Brian asks.

 

John doesn’t know how to answer, not wanting to ruin Roger’s chances by telling them that he chickened out. He wonders briefly if he is trying to sneak home on his own or if he is waiting by the car. Or if he broke into the car and took it…

 

What Brian gets as a reply is an uncertain shrug of John’s shoulders.

 

Then Tim speaks up.

 

“Brian… I wanted to wait with this until Roger is here, so I won’t leave you alone in this. But since it doesn’t look like he’ll be here soon, I’m going to say it now.”

 

Tim looks uncomfortable, he almost doesn’t want to meet Brian’s gaze.

 

“After we lost our last drummer, it seemed like we were going nowhere. And then Roger came along, and it was good for a bit, but it obviously didn’t last long at all, and I doubt it’s going to end well even if he does show up sometime today. A friend asked me to be in his band, and I said yes.”

 

“You’re quitting Smile?”, Brian asks incredulously. “But the gig … If you leave us now, we won’t be able to find someone new in time…”

 

“I’m sorry, Brian, I really am. This is a good opportunity for me and I have to take it. I hate to leave like this, but I hope you understand.”

 

“I do. It doesn’t mean I like it…”, Brian says and pulls Tim into a hug.

 

“I have to go now, or I’ll be late…”, Tim says and points to the clock.

 

“Sure, sure…”, Brian runs a hand through his curls and watches how Tim says good-bye to the other two, takes his bass guitar and disappears through the door.

 

“I’ll have to cancel the gig. Smile has no frontman. And if Roger doesn’t come back, I’m alone again.”

 

Freddie puts a finger to his lips, an enthusiastic gleam in his eyes.

 

“I could be your frontman. I’m a great singer!”, he announces.

 

“What? You?”

 

“I know all your songs, too!”

 

Brian sighs. For his taste, Freddie is a bit too flamboyant as a singer, and the colour of his voice is completely different from Tim’s. The problem is: Brian doesn’t want to have to start over completely and find new people to play with, and people he likes at that.

 

“Fine, we can try.”, he says. Freddie jumps up and down and hugs him, a big grin on his face.

 

“I still have to cancel the gig. You don’t play the bass.”

 

“I play the piano!”

 

“That is not the same. And we don’t have Roger.”

 

Not five seconds after those words tumble out of Brian’s mouth, the door opens.

 

It is Roger.

 

His cheeks are flushed from either the cold night air outside or from running. He makes his way over to the other three with an awkward spring in his step.

 

“Where have _you_ been?”, Freddie asks.

 

“Sorry I’m late”, Roger says, “And I’m sorry, Brian. For running away. It was not a good thing to do.”

 

Their eyes connect. Both have regret in them and the air between them seems to crackle with tension; It’s like an invisible rope is trying to pull them together.

 

“Tim is gone.”, Brian says.

 

“I sing now”, Freddie says.

 

“I could drum, if you want”, Roger says.

 

They look at each other gawkily before breaking out in laughter. John watches the scene fondly from the side lines. He doesn’t want to intrude, but if he doesn’t want to wait in the car, he can’t just go since he has to take Roger home later.

 

“Technically we only lack a bass player now”, Freddie says.

 

“John plays the bass!”, Roger says and suddenly everything seems so simple.

 

***

 

It takes a few minutes of convincing to get John to join in on the idea and another fifteen minutes of Roger, Brian and John trying to talk Freddie out of renaming the band to “Queen”.

 

“But we need a new name, the line-up is completely different from the original except for Brian!”

 

“We are four blokes, why would we name ourselves Queen?”, Roger argues. The irony of being in a band that is called Queen while being the future Queen of England in disguise makes him snort. “The Queen is not rock’ n’ roll!” Technically, it would mean naming the band after his mum…

 

“The _princess_ is very much rock’ n’ roll, _I_ think.”, John says with a teasing smile in Roger’s direction.

 

“Yes!”, Brian agrees, thinking of the weird display at the wildlife charity event.

 

“Brilliant, so you two are on board now?”, Freddie beams. Roger throws a death glare at John.

 

They decide to practice a bit even though John doesn’t have a bass with him. He doesn’t know all the songs, so they play them for him while he studies Tim’s bass lines in Brian’s sheet music folder and Roger adjusts his drumming a little. He is not _that_ familiar with _all_ the music yet. Not to mention that he didn’t practice at all in the last few days.

 

Freddie sings his heart out and promptly runs into a few arguments with Brian because he keeps changing the lyrics as he goes.

 

All in all, it’s a successful meeting.

 

Roger has been thinking.

 

During practice. Before he entered the jazz room today. Ever since he had that fight with Brian and Freddie about how he never tells them anything about himself and pushes Brian away.

 

“John is actually staying with Veronica tonight”, Roger says as Brian closes his guitar case.

 

“Is that so?”, Brian answers. He doesn’t see the questioning look on John’s face.

 

“Yes. So, he won’t be able to drive me home. I thought… maybe… if you don’t mind… I could sleep on your couch?”

 

John rolls his eyes, sensing he’s going to have to cover for Regina when she’s missing in the morning. Freddie looks at them like a proud mum would at her child making its first friend.

 

“Okay”, Brian says with a small but sincere smile, and Roger hopes to god it will be.

 

***

 

They spend most of the way to Brian’s flat in silence. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but Roger feels like they are both expecting something, and he is not sure what that might be.

 

“Do you need pyjamas?” Brian asks while he puts a pillow and two blankets on the couch.

 

“No, I’ll just sleep in boxers and my shirt”, Roger says before he remembers that he is wearing Regina’s panties. He curses himself inwardly.

 

“Okay. You know where the bathroom is and where I am if you need anything.” Brian points to the bedroom. “Good night, Roger.”

 

“Good night…”, Roger says, and Brian vanishes through the bedroom door.

 

Well, that was fast. Avoidance is strong in both of them, it seems. Roger is not sure if he is relieved that the conversation got put off or if he’d rather have had it done. He gets rid of his jacket and his jeans in the darkness – they are much too uncomfortable to sleep in – and snuggles into the blankets and pillows. One of them must have come from Brian’s bed because it _smells_ like him and it’s heavenly. Roger’s heart is light because he knows Brian is near him, and at the same time it feels heavy because he knows they are still separated by a lot more walls than the one between living room and bedroom.

 

Sleep comes surprisingly easily to him, though it doesn’t last long. A hand on his shoulder shakes him awake, and he hears soft whispers near his face.

 

“Roger!”

 

Roger yawns and opens his eyes a little bit. The silhouette of Brian in the dim light from the windows greets him.

 

“Would you like to sleep in the bed with me? It’s much more comfortable than the couch.”

 

“What? You wake me up in the middle of the night for…”, Roger starts until the wheels start turning in his sleep-drunken head and he catches on that Brian wants him to sleep in his bed _with him_. And who is Roger to turn down an offer like this?

 

He swings his legs onto the floor and grabs Brian’s hand, not trusting himself to not walk against the door frame in his sleepy state. When Brian puts his arm around his shoulders to steer him in the right direction, he nuzzles into his side happily. They reach the bed and Roger falls into it immediately. Instinct and sleepiness make him roll over as close to Brian as possible. They settle in and Roger closes his eyes again.

 

“Why did you always turn me down when I asked you out?”, Brian whispers.

 

“Mmh”, Roger hums. Then he sighs. “Can’t tell you now.”

 

“But you _will_ tell me…? You have to give me _something_ here, Rog…”

 

“When the time is right…”, Roger mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine”, Brian says even though it’s not. He adjusts his position, his hand lands on Roger’s hip and they both freeze for a millisecond.

 

“Are… are you wearing lace panties?”, Brian chuckles curiously.

 

“They are made for men”, Roger whispers defiantly. It’s true; They offer enough stretch and space in the places where it’s necessary, women’s lingerie would be much too uncomfortable to be wearing it all day long. Or all night long in this case. “Is it… is it okay?”, Roger asks a bit more timidly, as if his self-consciousness is suddenly catching up with him. He curls in on himself, facing away from Brian.

 

“It’s fine”, Brian soothes and presses a light kiss to Roger’s neck. “You don’t need to hide anything with me.”

 

His hand wanders from the side of his torso over his waist and down to the rim of his panties again. His long fingers trace along Roger’s skin at the line where they end, up the trail of hair to his navel and back down. Roger, still half asleep but not as much as before, pushes his hips back slowly, and then forwards again, against Brian’s fingers. He mewls into the pillow involuntarily before pushing his hips back again, and he can _feel_ that Brian hasn’t been unaffected by all of this.

 

Brian just did what felt right without thinking of the consequences. Not that he minds.

 

“Do you want this, Rog?”, Brian asks, his fingers caressing Roger’s hip through the intricate lace. Both their breaths are heavier by now. Roger snaps his hips back against Brian’s crotch again before answering.

 

“ _Yes_ , please.”

 

Brian jerks forward and cups Roger’s erection through the thin layer of fabric at the same time, eliciting a short gasp of want and approval from the prince. He pushes the panties down at the front so that it’s skin against skin and it’s easier for him to get a good grip.

 

A shudder runs through Roger’s body every time he breathes out, and he can feel and hear Brian panting against his neck. Somehow, the fact that they aren’t kissing and can’t see each other adds a special intimacy to the situation. They both lay on their left side and while Brian’s right hand is busy in Roger’s nether regions, he shoves his left one under Roger’s armpit and wraps it around his chest. Roger’s head and left shoulder are resting on the pillow so there is a bit of space for Brian’s arm and Roger holds onto it, grateful to have something _Brian_ to hold onto since his position doesn’t offer him many options to make use of his arms. He is enveloped by the other and it’s dark and he is still groggy from sleeping and it feels _so good_.

 

Light spots dance before Roger’s eyes and everything cuts to white noise as he spasms and his orgasm ripples through him. He can feel Brian rutting against him as he is taken by pleasure as well, his teeth sinking into Roger’s shoulder softly, not quite enough to hurt.

 

He is shaking, and everything feels like fuzzy bliss around him as he comes down. He can hear a voice calling his name from far away and only when he is rolled on his back and a hand is patting his cheek, the world comes back into focus.

 

“Roger, are you okay?”, Brian worries, glad as Roger’s eyes regain clarity and he replies.

 

“Brian.”, he mumbles. “Brian...”

 

“Are you okay?”, Brian asks again.

 

“Yes, yes… that was intense”, Roger says. “But so, _so_ good, Brian.”

 

Brian falls into the sheets next to him. “For a moment I thought you had passed out.”

 

“I _am_ sleepy again”, Roger answers and hugs Brian happily.

 

Brian grabs a few tissues from the bedside table and they throw their shorts onto the floor and clean up as well as they can without leaving the bed.

 

“Sing to me?”, Roger smiles as they are ready to go back to sleep. Brian starts humming what seems to be a slow Rock song, and Roger is too tired to be worried when he realizes it’s a slow version of his own song that Brian heard when Regina played it. The day they first met each other.

 

“Sheeeeeer heart attack”, Roger whispers along before the night takes him.

 

Brian promises himself to ask Roger about the song in the morning. Its style is unfamiliar, Rock but with a very muddy texture, and he is curious which band it’s from. He only heard it at that weird incident with the princess at the wildlife centre – and Roger seems to know it.

 

He dreams about Roger singing the song with his Red Special in a black dress that is made of lace, hedgehogs dancing around him in a circle. In the morning he can’t remember it, and it’s as if he dreamt nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleeeeeeeeease leave a review and tell me how you liked it! :D
> 
> If you have any prompts for OS that you would like to read, you can hit me with that too (and check out my OS "Intimacy" if you haven't read it yet *shamelessly self-promotes*).  
> Thanks for reading, kudos and especially comments! :-)


	6. The dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina goes on a date. It does not go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo!
> 
> Here we go again.  
> I was quite happy with the beginning of this chapter and then I wasn't so sure with the rest.  
> Read the end notes for more info please!  
> I hope you enjoy :-)
> 
> Oh, and I kind of invented a duke. But I also made Roger the princess of England so I guess that's fine

It’s dark outside. Roger is standing at his open bedroom window and stares out into the night sky. The cigar between his lips glimmers, a bit like all the stars out there. They remind him of Brian. They are boyfriends now. Sort of. They haven’t talked about it, really. Roger is too scared of losing Brian to bring up his secret, and Brian hasn’t brought it up again as well. Maybe he fears losing Roger, too. Fears what it is that he can’t know.

 

Roger exhales slowly. The cigar tastes like shit to him despite its expensiveness, but shit is more than nothing. The wind ruffles his long hair and makes his eyes water. They are still a bit sore from the makeup and the remover liquid. He is used to it.

 

How long is Brian going to play along, when will he ask the question again and give him an ultimatum? How long can he keep sneaking out of the castle for band practice with John without anyone interfering and stopping him permanently?

 

Roger looks down to the gardens. He can make out one of the security men in the shadows. His gaze shifts up to the sky again. He wishes for a shooting star, but it doesn’t come.

 

***

 

The hedgehog’s feet sting a bit in his hands, but the creature feels soft, its tongue gentle against his palm. He smiles at the creature and at Brian, who is so happy when Roger is there but sometimes he notices the frustrated and puzzled looks he gets when Brian thinks he doesn’t see it, as if Brian is trying to piece something together but it doesn’t fit. Outside the barn Roger spots John and Veronica under the acorn trees, both flustered and smiling, maybe a tiny bit brighter than Brian. It must be nice not to have a huge secret. Roger wouldn’t know. It’s been like this for all his life, but without Brian. And with Brian, it’s definitely better. It’s easier to push Regina and her future aside for a while.

 

***

 

The day of the gig is there much too soon. “Queen” sounds not bad, but not as tight as they would like to. Freddie is very excited for “glam” stage clothes despite it being their first gig together.

 

“Let me put some eyeliner on you, it’ll look amazing, I promise!”, Freddie says.

 

“No!”, Roger shouts too fast and too loud and pushes Freddie away as he is getting into his personal space – it makes Brian and John turn around to see what the problem is.

 

“Geez, I didn’t think your masculinity was that fragile!”, Freddie says, obviously hurt by the harsh rejection.

 

“That’s _not_ the problem. I just don’t like it.”, Roger says. Brian frowns. He is just as confused as Freddie. After all, Roger does behave a little androgynous sometimes and it’s only for stage right now. In reality, Roger doesn’t want to make himself look more like Regina and expose himself.

 

Freddie accepts his wishes and is happy enough after putting the eyeliner on Brian instead, approving John’s subtle “costume” and platform shoes and getting Roger to wear a broad, silver, choker-like silk ribbon around his neck. After the gig, they are generally satisfied with how they played and how the audience reacted, even though Brian is still a bit annoyed by Freddie’s spontaneous lyrical changes. But they all know they can do much better and they know they made mistakes. So they agree upon meeting for practice a lot more from now on. Roger chews on his lips nervously in the van on the way to Brian’s.

 

They shower together before falling into bed, exhausted after the gig (and the shower in addition to it. Roger can still feel the phantom sensation of Brian’s fingers carding through his hair, washing dirt and sweat away, massaging his scalp gently. Even better was only the feeling of Brian swallowing deeply next to his ear as they ground against one another, fumbling for something to hold onto as they took each other apart).

 

“Why didn’t you want Freddie’s eyeliner?”, Brian asks as they lay under the covers.

 

“I just didn’t want it”, Roger says. “It stings in my eyes.”

 

“Oh.”, Brian says.

 

“Oh”, Roger echoes quietly. He could tell Brian. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Honestly, he doesn’t think Brian would have a problem with him being Regina as well as Roger (although it would probably take some time for him to get used to it). He thinks Brian will have a problem with him lying to him from the beginning, with him being royal and living in a fancy castle, meant to take the throne and rule (or rather represent – it’s not the middle ages after all) and have children, however that would work. Where would Brian’s place be in all of that? They could pretend, and Brian could be Regina’s boyfriend as well as Roger’s, but it would be tedious with all the media, the people in the castle, his family. It’s not Brian’s world. And in addition to that, Roger knows best how hard it is to pretend _something_ all day every day. He doesn’t want that for Brian. He wants him to be happy instead. With his stars and planets and animals and his self-made guitar and his band and his beautiful smile and his soulful eyes. Roger wishes he could have all those things too. He also knows that it’s entirely unrealistic and that he’s going to have to let Brian go eventually.

 

A tear rolls down his cheek silently and then one more and one more and many more and Brian cradles him in his arms without knowing the cause for Roger’s sudden onslaught of emotions.

 

***

 

“What?”, Regina gasps. “You can’t be serious, Mum!”

 

“I wanted to wait a bit longer with this, but recent events made me reconsider this decision”, the Queen says with a serious, but warm expression on her face.

 

“You want me to _marry_?”, Regina says. “You want _me_ to marry? Who? Is it because I bit Eric? I’ll apologize again, I promise!”

 

“Don’t be petty, you know it’s not something as silly as that. Although it certainly added to my determination. The reason that I want you to get married, or rather engaged, is your overall behaviour. I think it will give you something to do, it will look good to the public – they will love it, and I hope it’s going to help you with your… issues, to have someone you can confide in.”

 

“You’re being _serious_?”, Regina shouts. Her voice sends echoes through the high-built throne room. “If you want to keep me occupied, you can get me a poodle, not a fucking _fiancé_!” Her face is flushed red, her mother sighs, the guards and advisors standing and sitting next to her remain stone-faced.

 

“As I said, it’s not only that. But I do hope it will prevent you from future _excursions_.”

 

Regina is silent. The Queen _knows_.

 

“This is not a punishment. I’m trying to push you back on the right path. It’s what is best for the country and unfortunately, we must make that our top priority. You should have learned this by now, Regina.”

 

Regina looks at the carpet at her feet, trying to burn holes in it with her eyes.

 

“I love you, you know that”, the Queen says, “and I know you still hope to get out of all of this. But you can’t, and thus I have decided it to be best if you come to terms with it as fast as possible. You’re meeting him for dinner at a restaurant tomorrow evening. His name is Charles.”

 

***

 

Regina hates _Charles_ already. He is on the way to his first _date_ with him, _just to get to know him_.

 

“Okay, so, here is what I know”, John says. He isn’t driving himself and there are two bodyguards in the car as well. Regina is pretty sure that at least 60 percent of their purpose consist of keeping her from bolting out of the restaurant.

 

“He is bisexual (Regina snorts), he is the Duke of Sussex (Regina snorts), he is twenty-five years old (Regina snorts), he likes playing chess and is interested in birds (Regina raises both eyebrows) – _the flying animals_ (Regina snorts) … Please keep the insides of your nose where they are, princess.”

 

“Well, isn’t this very convenient to my mother.”, Regina says. “He is _bisexual_. So you think he won’t _notice_?”

 

“I am sure the Queen simply thought it would be easier like this since he can get to know you as a person he’ll possibly marry instead of a woman.”

 

“You mean, she can check him out before letting him in on the big secret.”

 

“I think she wants _you_ to be able to check him out. But of course marriages of convenience are seldomly based on physical attraction. And if you’re going to have children, they of course won’t continue _his_ bloodline.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll mind that”, Regina retorts. “And why do I even need to marry if we can’t have children together anyway? Wouldn’t it be more convenient to get me to marry a woman? She can dress up as a man. I do it all the time.”

 

John is not sure how to respond. He’s trying to keep back a laugh and fails. Regina has to smile against her will.

 

***

 

The restaurant is a public place, it’s not rented out just for the two of them and Regina is very grateful for it. It’s a very expensive, upper-class establishment and the press is not allowed inside.

 

Charles is already there. He stands up nervously as a waitress leads Regina and her entourage to his table. He looks very friendly and Regina instantly hates him for it. Charles is not supposed to be anything but a horrible conversationalist and overall person; he is her enemy, after all! He smiles as he greets her (“It’s a pleasure to meet you, princess Regina!”) and it’s a nice smile but it’s not Brian’s. His eyes are blue and gentle and good-natured but they are not Brian’s. His hands look soft as he takes the menu in front of him and flicks through it but they are not Brian’s. Regina thinks of long fingers, of long, curly hair and long… other thing(s)… She zones out a little, until…

 

“Are you ready for me to take your order yet?”, a very polite voice interrupts her train of thoughts. A voice that sounds just like Brian’s. The princess looks up slightly and her eyes get caught by brown locks that look like they have been brushed very thoroughly (who did that? I wasn’t there! – He did it himself, Regina soothes herself inwardly) and they look like Brian’s. She takes in his facial features, his nose, his beautiful eyes and they look like Brian’s. Because _it is Brian_.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Regina yanks her menu up in front of her face in panic.

 

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes, then”, Brian says, obviously taking her action as a _no_.

 

Regina flinches at a hand that touches her shoulder, but it’s only John.

 

“Do you want me to request another waiter?”

 

“No, it’s fine”, Regina says, clearing her throat noisily. Brian needs this job. She can’t do this to him, they’ll think he did something wrong. Charles watches her curiously.

 

“What was wrong with him?”, he asks, “Do you know him?”

 

 _Yes, but he doesn’t know me,_ Regina wants to answer. “No, no, nothing’s wrong.”, she says instead.

 

“But something must be, judging by your reaction to him. What did he do?”

 

Think, Regina, think.

 

“He… uh… he ran my dog over”, she says, promising herself to kiss Brian very gently the next time Roger sees him. John breathes in deeply in a desperate attempt to contain himself.

 

“Oh my god, that’s horrible!”, Charles says and puts one of his hands in front of his mouth in genuine shock. “And you are positive you don’t want another waiter?”

 

“No, no, it’s fine”, Regina says quickly. “I just don’t want him to recognize me because I don’t want him to feel bad. He… uhm… was so upset afterwards, and the dog was actually fine, so… I don’t want to trigger him.”

 

John coughs violently into his sleeve.

 

“The… the dog was fine?”

 

“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, it _is_ dead now.”

 

The question mark over Charles’ head almost threatens to take on a physical form.

 

“It died of old age. And Brian would ask about the dog, and I would have to tell him, and then he would be upset!”

 

“I don’t want to offend you, but I’m sure he knows you are the princess, it is pretty obvious”, Charles points to John and the bodyguards, “and also, you could just lie to him if he asks you about the dog, it’s a white lie if it’s small and it’s purely to protect his feelings, right?”

 

“All lies are bad, Charles!”, Regina scolds and Charles’ cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. “Excuse me, I have to powder my nose.”

 

She stands up and John pulls the chair out for her. He watches her make her way to the toilets with one of the bodyguards in tow before his eyes land on Charles. The duke has boyish features, a pretty, ageless looking face with soulful eyes and now pink cheeks, and a resigned smile on his lips. John feels kind of sorry for him.

 

“I shouldn’t have said that, right? I hope I haven’t ruined my chances.”, Charles says to him.

 

“Oh, I don’t think she took offense to that. She is just a bit moody sometimes. Can’t hold it against her. It’s a hard life, being a princess.”

 

Charles nods slowly in agreement.

 

***

 

Regina would love to splash some water on her face to cool down, but she doesn’t want to ruin her makeup in front of Brian again. She can’t go out there again. What if he recognizes her as Roger?

 

A woman opens the door and throws the bodyguard a disapproving look before disappearing in one of the stalls (of course there is still no hint of an emotion evident on his face; Maybe he should teach John sometime).

 

“Richard? Did you see if the waiter looked at me weirdly? Did he look shocked or sad or angry when he left the table?” Regina stands in front of her bodyguard, arms crossed, eyes contemplative.

 

“Is he a potential danger?”, Richard asks in his deep, rumbling voice.

 

“No, no, he isn’t. As I told Charles, I just don’t want him to be upset because of the dog.”

 

Richard doesn’t raise an eyebrow or something like that, but Regina thinks she knows how to interpret his quietness.

 

“I’m serious!”, she says. But since – after observing the person in question, the situation and Regina’s answer – Richard has marked Brian as harmless, he doesn’t deem Regina’s musings as enough to warrant a reply. After all, he is not supposed to hold conversation with the princess if it isn’t necessary. Those are the rules (and Regina knows it).

 

“Fine, be like this, Richard!”, she huffs and struts out of the bathroom, the bodyguard following closely behind her.

 

Regina sits down at the table after John pulls the chair out for her and puts her chin in her hands, staring directly into Charles’ surprised eyes.

 

“So, Charles”, she purrs, “I’ve heard you enjoy looking at birds?”

 

John at this point does not think he is going to survive the night.

 

“I, uh… I do…”, Charles clears his throat (though a lot more subtly than Regina did before), “I think they are fascinating. And who doesn’t wish they could fly like eagles or even sparrows do?”

 

“Are you trying to be poetic now?” Regina narrows her eyes.

 

“No, I…”, Charles begins, but at the same time he starts speaking someone else does, too.

 

“Are you ready to order or do you need some more time? Our special recommendation this evening is the venison, and the quail is fantastic as well.”

 

Regina shields her face from Brian with her hand. One half of her is fretting over the fact that they make Brian gush over non-vegetarian dishes at this restaurant and that he shouldn’t have to do that, and the other half is busy obsessing that he is going to _know_ if he looks her directly in the eye.

 

Suddenly things shift.

 

The width of the table between Regina and Charles seems to shrink, just like the walls of the room that are slowly getting closer. Her throat closes up and she can feel the arteries and veins in it swell as she struggles to get enough air into her lungs and oxygen to her brain. She swallows hard, but it doesn’t help.

 

“Regina, are you alright?”, Charles asks worriedly.

 

Regina nods and grabs the glass of water that someone (Brian?) must have brought while she was gone. It’s too sparkly for her, causing her to hiccup immediately. It makes her chest hurt and her eyes water.

 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice it being so sparkly…”, John says and puts a hand on her shoulder. And normally it wouldn’t be a problem, but Regina is in the middle of a public location on the edge of a panic attack, and Brian is next to her and he is the cause of it and he could help but no, he can’t be here because maybe he’ll realize that Regina having a panic attack is kind of similar to Roger having one and he will find out and he will leave and when he stays he will get hurt because Regina needs to marry Charles or someone else and Roger is going to have trouble sneaking out in the next few weeks anyway and Richard knows she never had a dog and

 

The next thing Roger knows, he is standing in the cold night air outside in the street with wobbly legs and John’s hands on his arms to steady him, his back against the wall of the building. An there is John’s voice telling him when to breathe in and out and then he is being lead to a car and placed in the backseat.

 

“I told Charles you’re having a tough time at the moment because of your dog’s demise.”

 

Regina snorts.

 

“When”, she says, the pain in her chest slowly easing.

 

“In passing”, John says and a black-humoured laugh escapes Regina as she thinks of what it must have looked like; John dragging the panicky princess to the exit between the tables full of shocked guests who might think something was wrong with her food while shouting to Charles _in passing:_ “Excuse her, her dog just died!”

 

Regina pulls a cigarette and a lighter out of the top of her dress, puts the stick between her lips and turns the small wheel with her thumb to create a spark.

 

“You know you’re not supposed to smoke cigarettes”, John says. “How do you even carry that in there all the time?”

 

“I’m not supposed to do many things”, Regina says grimly and takes a drag, filling the car with the poisonous fume.

 

***

 

Roger kisses Brian tenderly before listening to the weird story he tells about his last shift at the restaurant. Apparently Brian is worried about the princess.

 

“Don’t worry”, Roger says. “She is the princess. I’m sure she can handle herself.”

 

“Being a princess doesn’t make you immune to being human”, Brian says. “I’m trying to be here for you and I hope she has someone to help her, someone she trusts.”

 

“Any princess would be lucky to have you”, Roger chuckles and pulls Brian down on the sofa.

 

“And I’m so lucky to have you instead!”, Brian smiles and leans over to meet Roger’s lips in a loving, honest kiss.

 

Maybe not all lies are bad. But this one has an expiration date. And who is Roger not to enjoy it while it lasts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.
> 
> I would just like to say something: I know there are a few panic and anxiety attacks/ disorders in general in this fic, and I know I don't always portray them accurately in all aspects. I just want to say that I hope I don't offend anyone with that, it's definitely not my intention (I did suffer from stuff like this myself in the past and occasionally I still do, so it's not pulled out of thin air but I write not necessarily realistic - I just write what comes out and where the plot bunnies hop).
> 
> Aaand!!
> 
> What do you think is going to happen with Charles and with the band? What are the consequences of Regina's behaviour going to be? How is Roger/Regina going to cope with all of this? Other thoughts? :-) Something you would you like to see more of?
> 
> Unfortunately, I can't read your minds so pls share your thoughts in the comments, short or long! :D


	7. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another date, another disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws un-proofread chapter at you bc I need to go to work in less than 7 hours and haven't slept or showered yet*
> 
> Ok so I feel like I'm toeing a lot of lines with this fic, but I too need to survive somehow, bear with me. And actually it was never my plan to torture Roger so much (quite the opposite, this was supposed to be a fun story but oh look what happened). I'm sorry.
> 
> I also said in the comments of the last chapter (thank you so much for your comments & kudos!! :D) that there would not be any smut in this. There's maybe like, a glimpse? Idk if it counts. And I also said I would update tomorrow or the day after but then I started writing and it kind of ran away from me.
> 
> So. Read it or don't, I wrote this whole thing for unknown and probably not completely sane reasons

*** _time skip_ ***

 

Dr. Jack Smith is busy making himself a cup of tea in his office. It’s a light, open room with high ceilings and windows through which the royal gardens can be seen. The psychologist has no appointments this morning; he is surprised when his door opens and the princess is being brought in by two bodyguards and Peter, one of the Queen’s advisors. Jack used to see Regina regularly for years, but in the last few months she hasn’t said much at their appointments. Shifting between Roger and Regina is taking its toll amongst other things, Jack knows that. He had been trying to get them to look beyond the roles society offers as a default, to just be who they are for a while without putting too much conscious thought into their behaviour, but since they were required to be a princess almost all of the time, there wasn’t much space to work with. It didn’t help that they seemed to identify as Roger most of the time in the last year, making it even more difficult to cope with the situation.

 

Now princess Regina is here. She keeps shaking and rubbing her hands over her face as she sits down on the couch opposite Jack’s armchair. It doesn’t take a degree to tell that something must have happened.

 

Her hair looks ruffled and weird and short, as if it was cut off in a hurry by someone who has no expertise in hairdressing. Her watery eyes are highlighted by black and blue kohl, the knee-length skirt she’s wearing slips up a bit as she digs her fingers into her thigh where the nylon leggings are already ripped.

 

Jack nods to signal the other three to leave the room. The door closes with a soft _click_.

 

“Hello Regina”, Jack says. Or do you want me to call you Roger?”

 

Regina shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.” Jack waits for a bit, giving her the opportunity to start.

 

“I don’t want to be here”, Regina says after a while.

 

“Where would you like to be instead?”, Jack asks.

 

“With Brian.” She barely holds back a sob.

 

“Would you like to tell me who Brian is?”

 

“My boyfriend”, Regina says.

 

“When did you see him last?”

 

“Before they brought me here.”

 

“And where was that?”

 

“At his flat. But I wasn’t supposed to be there, I was supposed to stay at the proposal. Charles proposed to me at the planetarium.”

 

“You can tell me what happened, if you’d like. You know this is confidential, no one else will ever know what you say here.”

 

*** _a few weeks prior_ ***

 

“Hey Deacy, I wanted to ask you something”, Brian says while he plays a few chords, waiting for the others to get ready for practice. “I know you’re probably not supposed to tell, but is the princess fine? After what happened at the restaurant two days ago?”

 

“I’m not allowed to say. But yeah. It’s difficult for her at the moment, but she’s fine.”

 

“What is so difficult at the moment?”, Brian asks. Roger rolls his eyes behind his drumkit; no one sees that.

 

“Being the princess. Life. Love.” John purses his lips suggestively.

 

“Sorry, I don’t want you to reveal any secrets you’re not supposed to”, Brian says.

 

“You don’t?”, Roger quips and hits his drums _(ba-dumzzz…)_. “Then why are you asking.”

 

“I’m just curious”, Brian says.

 

“I hate to tell you this, but you are kind of a gossip sometimes.”

 

“I hate to tell _you_ this, but you are being kind of bitchy today, Rog.” Brian smiles and gets an innocent smirk in return.

 

“I just say what I’m thinking.”

 

“Okay darlings, enough eye-sex, we should start playing! Music I mean, not with each other’s dicks! Oh, don’t give me that look, Deacy. Veronica _does_ talk to me, you know. You can’t make me believe you’re prudish anymore.”

 

John’s face turns red and he looks as if he’s trying to sink into the floor.

 

“I wonder, does _the_ _princess_ talk to _you_? But no, you’re not gay, maybe that works differently then”, Freddie muses.

 

“She does not”, John says, “and I am very thankful for that.”

 

“Oh wow, this means she actually has a sex life!”, Freddie deduces. “With who?”

 

“I can’t tell you guys about Regina, I thought I had clarified this by now.”

 

“Not even by accident?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Who do you think gets the spiciest action, me, you, Brian and Rog or princess Regina?”

 

John doesn’t answer, Roger laughs quietly, and Brian looks contemplative, like he is actually thinking about it.

 

“We haven’t actually…”, Brian murmurs.

 

“Gone all the way? Aww!”, Freddie puts a hand in front of his mouth. Roger flushes a little. “That’s fine though”, Freddie says with a look at Rog, “some people never do, you know. There are so many other things you can do and after all, what happens if no one feels like bottoming?” They don’t know what exactly Freddie gets up to when he isn’t at band practice or at his and Brian’s flat, but they know that a lot of sex and parties are involved. “Roger seems like a switch to me, and I would have assumed Brian is a top but you never know.”

 

“I thought you wanted to practice”, John says before anyone can keep the conversation going.

 

They do practice. Freddie managed to secure another gig in a few weeks.

 

As they walk out of the building, Brian smirks at the way Roger sways his hips seductively.

 

“You actually do look a lot like princess Regina, Rog. You know, that could make for some nice roleplay!”, Freddie smiles innocently. Roger snorts and Brian looks a bit embarrassed but in a caught-with-red-fingers kind of way. Roger files this away for future use. It would be dangerous, but then again – would Brian really be able conclude that Roger is princess Regina without him telling him?

 

On the way to Brian and Freddie’s flat, Roger allows himself to dream about a version of his life where Brian knows his secret, and he can rule not as Roger or Regina specifically, but as himself, with Brian by his side. They would install a big telescope or whatever Brian wants in one of the towers, and they would watch the stars out in the cold before crawling under the covers in the royal fourposter bed. Whenever public speeches need to be held, Brian would be by his side, just a few steps behind him, next to John. Roger imagines the title page of the newspaper with an image of himself in Brian’s arms.

 

And Brian’s arms are where he ends up as soon as they enter the flat. Freddie disappears into the kitchen to feed his cat. Roger and Brian disappear into Brian’s room. Brian pulls him in a passionate kiss, but Roger doesn’t feel like doing more than maybe a bit of petting tonight.

 

“Brian…”, he moans as Brian nuzzles his neck, his hands roaming over Roger’s back down to his arse.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“I… can we j-just cuddle tonight?”, Roger asks insecurely. He can _feel_ that Brian is excited, but...             

“Of course”, Brian says and pulls back so much that Roger almost regrets vocalizing his wish, but then he realizes that Brian is simply getting rid of his pants and pullover to change into a nightshirt. He does the same, pulling his own pyjamas out of one of Brian’s drawers. Brian doesn’t comment on his rather feminine underwear, he is used to it by now. They brush their teeth side by side. It feels domestic and normal, and Roger smiles.

 

Brian gets into bed first and holds the blankets up for Rog to climb in. Roger snuggles into Brian’s chest and Brian wraps himself around him, presses a kiss on top of Roger’s head.

 

***

 

Charles is nice.

 

He also seems to be interested in everything Regina is doing, it’s almost a bit annoying. One day, they go to her bedroom to fetch her jacket, and Charles sees the big astrology book on her bedside table.

 

“You like astrology? That’s so cool!”

 

“I tried to learn a bit about astrophysics, but it’s not really my thing, so I settled for astrology”, Regina says.

 

“Maybe you can show me some constellations sometime?”, Charles asks, excited at the prospect of going stargazing with her.

 

“I don’t know, I usually go to bed early”, Regina says.

 

It’s not easy to be an asshole while Charles is being Charles. It’s a bit like with Brian, but without the closeness and the love and sparks and fire and calmness. No, it’s not like with Brian. Regina can picture Charles as a friend and nothing more. And even though she does not want to be there, it still feels as if she is betraying Brian when she is with the duke.

 

“I don’t know if I can get out of this, John”, she tells him.

 

“I wish I could _advise_ the shit out of this”, John says. “But I don’t know either. As your advisor I would have to tell you to go along with it. Charles is not a bad person. In theory, he is the ideal partner for you.”

 

“But he’s not Brian.”

 

“He’s not Brian”, John echoes, “and that is why as your friend, I have to tell you that there is always a way. I know you can see it, but I can’t tell you what happens if you decide to follow it – because honestly: I have no idea.”

 

***

 

The weeks to Queen’s second gig go by in a whirlwind. Despite knowing that Regina is sneaking out on a regular basis, the Queen doesn’t up security. She knows Regina knows she needs to do what is best for the country. She does not know about all of her issues since she doesn’t like to talk about it and Dr. Smith is bound by doctor-patient-confidentiality. Being the Queen doesn’t allow for a lot of leisure time, and even though she loves her child, she is not nearly as close to it as she would have liked to be from the beginning.

 

This means that while Regina minds her duties – including dates with Charles – she goes out to practice a lot and often stays with Brian afterwards. Her heart grows heavier with every day that brings her closer to and further away from Brian at the same time.

 

For Brian, time creeps by very slowly. He cherishes every minute he gets to spend with Roger, but he has an uncomfortable feeling in his gut about the big secret he seems to hide. It hangs over all their beautiful moments like clouds waiting to break out into a thunderstorm.

 

Right now, Brian sits on the sofa in his and Freddie’s flat. He is looking at a newspaper article as Roger comes out of the bathroom and leans over the back of the couch to hug Brian from behind.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

“It’s about princess Regina. Apparently, she is dating the duke of Sussex now. He is the guy I saw her with at the restaurant.”

 

“You really are a bit of a gossip, hm?” Roger puts his chin on Brian’s shoulder and looks at the picture that accompanies the article. It shows Regina and Charles in a park.

 

“Her smile looks rather forced, don’t you think? And she looks _so much_ like you!”

 

“Pff! Don’t be ridiculous! I am a man. I don’t look like her.”

 

“It’s her eyes and her nose, and the outline of her face. Are you sure you’re not related somehow?”

 

“I guess there is some royal blood in my family”, Roger says. “But it’s like… very removed from the princess. Not a close relation.”

 

“Huh.” Brian notes that this is the first time Roger revealed something about his relatives.

 

“Why are you so interested in the princess anyway? Just because she looks a bit like me?”

 

“I met her at a charity event at the wildlife rescue. She bit a guy in the shoulder – maybe you’ve seen this in the newspapers (Roger shakes his head) – and ran away, and I found her in the garage, playing my guitar like a madwoman. And her voice was kind of raspy, a bit like yours. She was crying, but she didn’t seem… weak, I guess.”

 

“It’s not unusual to get a raspy voice from crying”, Roger says.

 

“Right. Anyway, I was kind of… mesmerized by her, I guess. I never thought being royal means much, but when I saw her… I couldn’t help thinking but… admire the willpower and charisma I saw in her.” Brian takes a bit to choose the right words.

 

“Wow, she really made an impression on you.” Roger tightens his hold on Brian, still hanging over the back of the sofa.

 

“I feel like you have kind of the same energy about you”, Brian says.

 

“What, so I’m a substitute for the princess now because Charles snatched her away from under your nose?”, Roger says playfully. It’s a bit reassuring to know that Brian has a thing for Regina even though he can’t help feeling a little bit jealous. Brian doesn’t know Reg and Rog are the same person.

 

“I would always choose you, Roger”, Brian says. “It feels like I’ve known you for much longer than I have. Except for your big secret of course.”

 

Roger closes the distance between their lips, kissing Brian slowly and passionately.

 

“I want to be with you, Brian.”

 

“You are.”, Brian whispers.

 

***

 

“It’s my day off today for obvious reasons, so I can’t do much to get you out of the date on time!”, John worries.

 

“I’ll make it to the gig in time. Please just get the drumkit set up in there already, please.”

 

“Sure. I’m just wondering what happens if you can’t make it.” John laughs nervously. “Freddie would kill you.”

 

“I know. That’s why I won’t be late. I’ll be there, I promise.”

 

 _Of course_ there needs to be a date with Charles the evening of the gig. They are supposed to start their concert at 9 PM and Charles (and his driver) picks him up at half past seven. He has hope, but he knows the probability of not making it on time is _very_ high. Both him and John have tried to reschedule the date, but Charles _insisted_.

 

***

 

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?”, Regina asks in the car.

 

“Oh, it’s a surprise. I don’t want to spoil it!” Charles smiles disarmingly.

 

The car drives into the heart of the city, and soon Regina is standing inside a building, her and Charles’ steps resounding from the walls of the apparently large, empty room. Her eyes are covered by a silk scarf. Charles is holding her hand to guide her.

 

“Can I take it off yet?”

 

Charles’ hand disappears, and the scarf is being removed.

 

Regina opens her eyes in awe. They are in a planetarium, the projected stars shining brightly in the darkness. But it’s not completely dark.

 

They are in the middle of the round hall in a circle of candles. All the seats are empty, they are alone.

 

It’s beautiful and Regina remembers how Brian told her about this place. She notices distantly that Charles has started to talk, but she is lost in her own world, watching the stars above and around her.

 

_“Why don’t you watch the stars more often?”, Roger asks._

_“The lights of the city make it a bit hard to see a lot, even with a telescope”, Brian says. “There is a planetarium in London, it’s like a big circular room, as if you were standing inside a sphere. The stars are projected on the ceiling. You can see the constellations and everything very clearly.”_

_“You’ve been there? Can we go there? It sounds very cool!”_

_Brian sighs. “I would love to, and I would love to take you there, but unfortunately it’s very expensive. I hope it gets a bit more affordable as technology develops. While I’m still a student, I really don’t have the money for it. I wish it was at least a bit cheaper, so I could take you there sometime.”_

_“It’s fine Brian, it was just a question. We should get out of the city at night sometime, I’m sure we could watch the stars better from there.”_

_“If you want to indulge an astrophysics nerd”, Brian smiles. “It might be boring for you.”_

_“It’s not boring”, Roger says. “And you are my nerd, so it’s fine. And I’ll defend you with my life to prevent the bullies from getting to you!”_

_“Thank god, I’m finally safe!”, Brian mocks._

_“Don’t thank god, thank me!”, Roger laughs._

 

“Will you marry me?”

 

“What? Sorry, I zoned out a little”, Regina says. Charles laughs nervously. He is down on one knee in front of her, in the middle of the circle of candles, holding a small, open box out to her. It contains a diamond ring.

 

A diamond ring.

 

A ring.

 

An engagement ring.

 

“I said, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” Charles smiles, full of hope.

 

Regina gapes at him in surprise and horror.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

Regina turns around and shouts her question to the bodyguards who are standing left and right of the exit. “What time is it?”

 

“Eight thirty”, one of them says.

 

“Thank you, Richard! I’m sorry, Charles, but I really have to go. I can’t…” She looks at the stars and can only see Brian’s amazed smile in her mind as she imagines him looking at a clear night sky in the countryside. “I can’t do this. I’m very sorry.”

 

She runs out of the door, the bodyguards on her heels. Conveniently enough, a taxi drives by as she exits the building and she jumps inside, shouting at the driver to speed away. She knows the other car is going to follow them and they don’t have much of a head start, so she throws a few bills on the passenger’s seat and hops out again after a turn after telling the man to keep going fast. It’s a good thing she has taken to carrying some money with her at all times since she started sneaking out on a regular basis.

 

Regina disappears in a narrow alleyway and takes another taxi on the other side of the block. She’ll make it on time.

 

***

 

She does not make it on time.

 

It’s exactly nine o’clock when she arrives at the bar. It’s bigger than the pub they played at last time, and she finds that it’s quite stuffed with people as she pushes her way through to where she assumes the door she is searching for is. She finds it, closes it behind herself with a loud “bang” and leans against it. Out of breath from running and pumped with adrenaline, she closes her eyes for a few seconds. She feels freed in a sense after rejecting Charles like this although he certainly deserves better. There is no panic because she knows she doesn’t have time for that now; The drums are waiting for her. Brian is waiting for her.

 

A shocked gasp makes her open her eyes and they immediately lock in with Freddie’s. They both freeze.

 

***

 

Brian’s hands feel right. They fuel the hunger inside her, make her moan his name while they undress her and himself.

 

_“Roger”, Freddie manages to say. “Oh my god, you are…”_

_“It’s me, Freddie”, Regina says. “Please, I’ll explain it to you tomorrow. Just help me to get changed quickly and get the makeup off my face so we can play? And don’t tell Brian. You can’t tell anyone!”_

_“I… fine. Let’s rock this hellhole into the next dimension”, Freddie says, locks the door and fetches cotton pads and vodka from a table._

 

“Roger”, Brian groans as Roger’s hand tugs at his hard dick.

 

“Call me Regina”, Regina says.

 

Brian chuckles.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Let me be your princess for tonight”, Regina whispers in his ear, standing on her toes, her arms around Brian’s neck.

 

“Okay”, Brian says, dizzy by alcohol and his lover, dizzy for pleasure and bliss.

 

He grabs _Regina’s_ behind and lifts her up and she hops up enthusiastically, wrapping her legs around his hips. He stumbles across the bedroom to his bed and they land on the mattress, with enough force to press the air out of their lungs for a second. Regina sucks on Brian’s tongue and it’s filthy and intoxicating. Brian’s brain short-circuits. To think of anything but the body under him seems impossible, but then again, he doesn’t even try.

 

“I want you to fuck me”, Regina pants. “Say, _yes, princess_.”

 

“Yes, princess”, Brian says a bit teasingly.

 

“Say it like you mean it, Bri!”

 

“I’ll do anything you want, your majesty. Tell me what you want and I’ll serve you.”

 

“Show me the stars”, Regina whispers. “Make me see them.”

 

“Your wish is my command”, Brian laughs.

 

_The audience is on fire, cheering for them even though most of them don’t know any of their names, but they know one name. Queen. And that’s enough._

_It’s hot, the air is heavy with sweat and noise. The music ties everyone together like an invisible net, bewitching the minds of everyone in the room. At least that’s what it feels like for the four of them and hopefully for every single person in the bar._

 

Never before has Regina come as hard as she does with Brian burying himself inside her to the hilt. Creating slick noises with every movement. Whispering more and more incoherent words in her ear.

 

Afterwards they sink into the pillows as if all their bones have left their bodies, unable to move for a few moments. When Regina comes back down to earth, Brian is asleep. She isn’t sure how much time has passed, maybe minutes, maybe she actually slept for an hour or two. What Brian spilled inside of her is still seeping out very slowly and she gets up to take care of it.

 

The bathroom mirror shows her glowing but tired face and she looks into her own bewildered eyes.

 

This is not good.

 

Brian can’t know.

 

She is going to lose him.

 

He is getting closer to the secret.

 

_Freddie knows._

 

The Queen definitely knew about the proposal and she won’t be pleased. She is a patient woman but even she has a breaking point.

 

She is still going to marry Charles.

 

There is only one solution.

 

All of the things she doesn’t want require Regina to exist.

 

If she isn’t there, there is no way to hide anymore.

 

 _There is always a way._ That’s what John said.

 

Regina opens the mirror cabinet over the sink. She’s in luck. She takes the scissors, combs her long, blonde hair into a ponytail, holds it between the fingers of one hand and the other _cuts_.

 

Roger feels a bit delusional while he cuts and cuts, slightly trembling, until his hair is fairly short and looks wild in its unevenness. He lets the tresses fall to the floor without thought.

 

Then the realization hits him that he can’t not be Regina and that he has nowhere to go but the castle, and that Brian is going to know if Regina suddenly has shorter hair at the same time as Roger.

 

Regina could wear a wig.

 

He sneaks out of the bathroom, sifts through the bag in which John brought his stage clothes. Brian is sound asleep. Roger goes back to the mirror and outlines his eyes with blue and black makeup. Now he looks a bit more like Regina again, not sure in which direction it is leaning.

 

But what is all of this for, then?

 

He didn’t want to hide anymore, right?

 

Roger is so confused that he doesn’t know anything anymore.

 

What did he want to do again?

 

He feels a familiar pressure on his chest and inside the need to flee arises.

 

He hurries to get his clothes on, taking Regina’s out of the bag – he doesn’t even know why he does it anymore, everything is warbled and distorted, and it can’t be only because of all the alcohol he drank. With one last, longing look at Brian he leaves.

 

No taxi stops for him and his feet carry him to the main gate of the place he spent most of his life in.

 

***

 

“And what would you like to do now?”, Dr. Smith asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts? ;)
> 
>  
> 
> (***I just read the smut bit again since I think I may have fucked it up a little and I wrote arms instead of legs somewhere. It made 0 sense. I changed it. I'm very sorry if you saw that but on the other hand Reg wrapping her arms around Brian's hips when he lifts her up would be kinda hilarious. Ok I'm gonna sleep now, fml)


	8. Visiting Roger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody knows what to do, least of all Roger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneaks in while trying to blend in with the wallpaper*
> 
> Hello, dear readers who stayed long enough to experience my inability to finish anything ever!  
> No, I'm sorry. I'll keep writing at this. But if you care to have an explanation: My life has been a mess with a new job, new home and everything, and it always takes me a long time to deal with things like this because of all the new people who exhaust me with their mere presence (even if they only breathe and do nothing else, I'm still very tired in the evening because it drains me). It's mostly fine now because I'm getting used to everything. So I hope I'll also be able to write again. ':D
> 
> And I know this chapter is really short, it's just one scene, and I'm very sorry for that too. Most of this was already on my computer for weeks, and I'm giving it to you now so you know I don't want to abandon this thing ;).  
> I hope I can keep my promises !

Freddie is snoring soundly until Jim’s phone rings at seven in the morning.

 

“Jim.”, he nudges his boyfriend’s shoulder to make him take care of the awful noise. “Jim…!”

 

“Hm.” Jim grunts and pushes his face deeper into his pillow.

 

“Oh, for god’s sake…” Freddie gets up and stumbles over to the phone when the ringing doesn’t stop.

 

“Who the fuck dares to interrupt my beauty sleep?”, he yawns.

 

“FREDDIE!“ Freddie almost drops the phone. “Fred, you need to come home! It’s Roger, he is… I don’t know, you need to come, _now_!”

 

“What? What happened to him?” Freddie suddenly feels very awake.

 

“I woke up, and he’s not here, but his clothes are here and his bag, and _his hair is on the bathroom floor_ …”

 

“Wait, what do you mean, his hair is on the bathroom floor?!”

 

“He must have cut his hair, and left it on the bathroom floor, I don’t know, and he is gone but his clothes are here, it’s like someone kidnapped him!”

 

“And left his hair on the floor as a clue for you? Calm down, Brian, I’m sure there’s a good explanation for all of this.”

 

“WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS?”

 

“Well, I don’t know yet.”

 

“FREDDIE!”

 

“Stay where you are, I’ll send Jim over!”

 

“What? _Why can’t you come yourself?_ ”

 

“I don’t have time darling, I’m so sorry. I’ll drop by later, I promise. I’ll go and wake up Jim now.”

 

“You were asleep until now, why don’t you have time? This is an emergency, Fred, I don’t know what happened to Roger, he could be laying in a ditch somewhere, we need to search for him!”

 

“London is very big, that makes no sense, Brian. He could be anywhere by now. But I think I know where he is. Don’t worry.”

 

“Where is he? How do you know?”

 

“I can’t tell you, and I don’t even know for sure, but it’ll be fine, Brian. I hope.”

 

“You hope? Fred, please! I’m dying here!”

 

“If he is where I think he is, he is fine. I’ll go check.”

 

“I’ll come with you!!”

 

“No, that’s impossible. Just hold tight, I’ll be back.”

 

“He doesn’t want to see me anymore, that’s it, right? Last night was too much, we did something stupid and now he freaked out and ran away because of me.” Brian’s voice is not more than a sad whisper.

 

“What did you do last night?”, Freddie asks.

 

“We were very drunk, and we slept together, like _slept_ slept, and we kind of role-played, and his mind seems to have caught up with him only later when I was asleep, and now he’s gone and his clothes and his hair are here and I’m worried that he hurt himself or did something stupid. I don’t even care if he doesn’t want to see me anymore, I just want him to be fine.” Brian is sobbing into the telephone, and his sniffling nearly breaks Freddie’s heart.

 

“I’ll call you as soon as I find him.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Jim will be with you in half an hour.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They hang up and Freddie kisses Jim awake.

 

“You need to get up, Jim. I’m sorry, but this is very important. You need to go to my flat and look after Brian for a bit. He is very upset because of Roger.”

 

“What, did they break up?”

 

“No, I hope not. I’ll go and kick Roger’s ass. You take care of Brian, please make sure he doesn’t leave our apartment. Those two really are idiots.”

 

***

 

Freddie is not stupid, and he knows he won’t get into the castle without any help. John slept at Veronica’s place, so naturally that’s his first stop.

 

“What do you think happened?”, Freddie asks after telling John about the situation.

 

“How am I supposed to know?”

 

“Well, since you’re his fucking advisor or whatever, I thought maybe you’d know what goes on in his pretty little head!”

 

“I am what now?”, John screeches.

 

“Oh, I know he is the princess of England. No need to pretend anymore. Not with me anyway.”

 

“Does Brian know?”

 

“Nope.”

 

John sighs.

 

“Let’s check if he went back to the castle. How did you find out?”

 

“I saw him when he came to our gig. Or, well, I saw _her_.”

 

John shakes his head. “I always told him to be careful.”

 

“I’m almost hurt he didn’t tell me”, Freddie says. “But it is an awfully big secret. And he didn’t even tell Brian. That poor poodle boy doesn’t even know he bedded the bloody princess.” He laughs. “ _That_ is going to blow his mind for sure. I’m still worried about where Roger is now, though. Or should I call him Regina now?”

 

“He doesn’t really mind either way most of the time.”, John says. “I wish I would be more surprised about him having a breakdown like this. I’ve seen this coming for a long time honestly.”

 

They get into the castle without any problems, and John manages to get Freddie a visitor’s card to wear around his neck.

 

They practically run to Roger’s room, Freddie trailing a half step behind John.

 

“Thank goodness you are here, John.”

 

“Oh my god, it’s the _QUEEN_!”, Freddie whispers. John rolls his eyes.

 

“Is she here?”, he asks. Roger’s mother is pacing in front of the door.

 

“Yes. I tried to talk to her, she doesn’t want to see me. And I need to go now, I have an important meeting I’m already late for! Just… try to get her out of her own head, will you? I don’t care what it takes.”

 

John nods. The queen nods too and then vanishes down the hallway.

 

“Should we knock?”, Freddie asks. John mumbles “They won’t answer anyway”, but he still knocks before opening the left side of the double doors.

 

Roger is laying on top of the covers of his bed, facing towards the window and away from the door. His half-short hair is wet, he must have showered recently.

 

“Hey, Rog.” John sits on the bed.

 

“Go away”, Roger snarls. John tries to touch his shoulder, but Roger slaps his hand away.

 

“What happened? Brian is very upset, he found you gone and your hair on the floor.”

 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll have to marry Charles anyway. I just want to die.”

 

“You don’t mean that.”, John says softly.

 

“How do you want to know that? _You_ can do whatever you want.”

 

“Why would you have cut your hair if you wanted to die?”, Freddie says, making his presence known.

 

“What?” Roger turns around.

 

“If you wanted to kill yourself or die or whatever, it wouldn’t have mattered if your hair was still long, right? But you wanted to change it. You wanted to make a change in your life, not end it. So you cut your hair.”

 

“You might be a better psychologist than the actual dude I have for this shit.”

 

“It’s a gift.”

 

There is an uncomfortable pause. Freddie looks around, taking in his surroundings. There is an antique looking dressing table with an elegant mirror. The table top is nearly empty, Roger seems to have thrown it all onto the floor. The same goes for the pot plant that used to be on the commode next to the window. The pot is broken, and the soil is ruining the carpet.

 

“Where is Brian?”, Roger mumbles after a while, balled up on the bed in foetal position.

 

“He is in his flat with Jim and Veronica.”

 

“You didn’t tell him?”

 

“I think you should tell him”, John says.

 

“I just want to sleep”, Roger says. “Forever.”

 

“You have to do something, Roger. I know it’s hard, but if you actually want to come out to the public as a man, I think you should do that.”, Freddie says.

 

“It’s not that simple”, John throws in. “That would have a lot of consequences.”

 

“But what’s the alternative? Roger living only as Regina forever? Marrying this Charles-person, having fake children with him?”

 

“I don’t know what to do”, Roger says.

 

“You could have a press conference. Or have an outing first, then the press conference. If you told the royal court or anyone beforehand, they would never allow you to do this. But if you just do it, maybe they’d change the laws for you”, John muses.

 

“But the public wouldn’t accept it. I mean, I deceived them for more than twenty years… This would destroy their trust in the royal family, they would hate us!”

 

Silence. Freddie and John want to disagree, but they know Roger is right.

 

“I have known Brian for what? A few weeks? I can’t throw away everything because of him. I don’t want to spend my life with Charles, but I’ll probably have to. It’s the way things are, I know this. I have been trained for it all my life. Maybe… maybe I just had to live a little before it gets serious.”

 

“Well, I know Brian feels a lot more than that. I am one hundred percent sure he is bawling his eyes out right now because he doesn’t know what happened to you.”, Freddie says disapprovingly. “You have to make a decision and talk to him.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything. Just leave me alone.”

 

“ _Brian is my friend_ , a very good friend, and he has been nothing but patient and caring with you. If you think I’m going to stand by and watch you throw him away without so much as a face to face apology and an explanation, you are very wrong.”

 

“I’d have to snap my fingers and you’d be thrown out of this castle in the blink of an eye”, Roger hisses. “You can’t make me do anything.”

 

_“You-“_

 

John interrupts Freddie before he can start.

 

“I know Brian is more to you than just a fling, Roger”, he says. “You’re trying to take the easy way out here.”

 

“You don’t understand”, Roger laughs bitterly. “You should know. There is no easy way here for me. There never has been. So I would really appreciate it if you would just go now. Both of you. I don’t want to listen to this. You don’t know what it’s like to be me and you should be glad you don’t. But don’t assume you know what I feel or what decision I should make. Now go, before I call the bodyguards in.”

 

“Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now?”

 

“I said, don’t try to make decisions for me”, Roger gnarls. “Now _go_.”

 

And they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Roger should do? Hard decisions here ^^


	9. Freight Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger runs.

Roger packs his backpack.

 

He puts his drum sticks in it, a few clothes, the bit of cash he still has. The window is his way out once again. Maybe it’s the last time, he thinks. Coming back doesn’t seem like an option. He makes it to out to the streets without getting caught even though it’s daytime. He walks aimlessly along the sidewalk and heads towards a freight station that isn’t too far away. Going to Brian or Freddie or John is no option either. They would make him go back, too righteous to help him hide forever. To cowardly. Or maybe it’s the other way around; maybe they are not cowardly enough. Freddie’s voice appears in his mind.

_“You’re trying to take the easy way out here.”_

 

Roger keeps walking. They don’t understand – because they can’t.

 

On the freight yard, he can’t see anyone, but a train is moving out slowly. It’s huge and it keeps getting bigger as Roger approaches it. There is a small platform with a railing at the end of the last wagon. His feet hit the ground faster, faster, the train is not to fast but Roger runs as fast as he can, the fresh air pressing down into his lungs forcefully as he grabs the railing and jumps up, climbs over it and rolls onto the floor. He pushes himself up a bit so he is leaning against the wall of the wagon. The station is getting smaller and Roger laughs. Nowhere to go, nowhere to go back to. No princess Regina anymore. Only Roger. Whatever _that_ means. He hugs his bag and tries not to think too hard about the future.

 

The train speeds up a bit as it leaves the city completely. The air keeps getting saltier and after a few hours, Roger can see the sea in the distance. When it slows down for some reason, he jumps off and manages to land on the soft earth next to the train tracks. Muddy pants don’t feel like a problem at all at the moment, and he proceeds in the direction the wind is coming from, the direction of the sea.

 

The sand feels nice underneath his bare feet. He climbs onto a rock and watches the waves break against it roughly, careful not to stand too close to the edge. He looks out to the horizon and feels small and powerful all at once, defying the elements from his spot on the rock, wind in his short-ish hair and the cries of sea gulls in his ears. Far away, a fisher boat floats on the dark water. Even here, Roger is not alone. He sighs deeply, all his sorrows suddenly weighing a ton again. On this boat, there are people who know him as Regina, who trust in their loyal princess and future queen, and here he is, running away because he is being oppressed. Or at least, that is how he feels.

 

The unknown fisherman is going to go home, maybe to his wife and children or his mother or his cat, and he is going to wake up in a few days and have the newspaper in his mailbox with the title story “PRINCESS REGINA MISSING”. There are going to be theories and rumors about what happened to her. Was she kidnapped? Maybe that will seem like the only reasonable explanation. Roger knows Regina is beloved by most of England and those people, her people, are going to worry and pray for her if they believe in any kind of god. He imagines the candles and flowers and pictures they are going to put in front of the fence next to the castle’s front gate. Would there be any flowers? He imagines John standing there among the mourning people, many of which think he (she) is already dead. John looks at the flowers and knows which ones Roger would have hated and which ones he would have liked, and at the pictures of Regina in her beautiful dresses and in a crown, drawn by the unsteady hands of children. Roger tries to imagine the look on John’s face. Would he be sad? Something tells him it is stupid and selfish of him to think what he does has no effect on John. Or on Brian and Freddie, although he hasn’t known them as long as John. John knows he ran away. He will know. “But maybe I should have left him a letter”, Roger thinks. “And mum. She won’t know if I’m fine.” He scoffs, too bitter towards his mother to embrace those feelings.

 

The longer he stands on his rock and walks along the waves, he concludes that it was not very wise to leave London like this. He has no place to sleep, no way of getting anywhere with the train gone.

 

After what feels like an eternity and no time at all, a village appears in the distance. Roger walks towards it, the wind ruffling his hair and blowing through some pale wildflowers that grow where the sand ends. Maybe those are the kinds of flowers that Brian would bring to the fence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I'm still alive... ':D I hope you guys are alive and well as well :)  
> Short, I know... Hopefully I'l be able to write more very soon!  
> I hope you liked it, comments are of course always motivating, and if you have a second, I'd love to hear from you :)


	10. Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigations in London are progressing slowly, the help of (to us well-known) outsiders is needed - while Roger enjoys his getaway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, back again, with another chapter, fresh and unedited as always, please forgive me for any fucked up English and such!  
> I hope you enjoy :)  
> Also you may notice that there is a small timeskip here

The street in front of the castle is – apart from the usual number of tourists – empty. No flowers in sight, no white candles or crying children. Inside the building, the queen is pacing in front of her throne. The princess has been missing for two days now.

 

“How have you not found her yet? She can’t have gotten that far!”

 

“Your highness, it is very likely that she is hiding somewhere in London, and if she doesn’t want to be found, it is going to take a while to do so, I’m afraid.”

 

“I want you to investigate those friends of hers more closely.”

 

“I believed Mister Deacon had taken care of that?”

 

“He is not a part of security and I want it checked. And ‘those friends of hers’ includes Mister Deacon. I don’t trust he would tell us if he knows where Regina is and she told him to keep it a secret.”

 

***

 

Brian is sitting at his desk. He is trying to study but can’t manage to concentrate. After spending most of yesterday crying and wallowing on the couch, he feels mostly confused now. Why did Roger do what he did? Where is he? He is certain that John and Freddie are hiding something from him. The bassist swears he hasn’t heard from Roger since their gig at the pub, but while he may be a good liar, Freddie, who was standing next to him, scratching his nose suspiciously while wringing his hands, is not. Unfortunately, Brian’s arguing to get the secret out of him had no effect other than Freddie looking pained and making an excuse to vanish after a while.

 

Now, while Brian is still failing to cram more knowledge about physics into his head, John and Freddie are standing outside on the street, smoking cigarettes.

 

“We HAVE to tell him, John! Look at him… He is pretending to be fine now, but like hell he is! For fuck’s sake, you can’t pretend Roger won’t talk to you forever!”

 

“At this point it’s not even about keeping it a secret, it’s just that I don’t feel it is my place to tell him! This is Roger’s mess, and while I’ve been happy cleaning those up for him during the last few years, I am not sure I want to deal with this one. This is an emotional matter, and I don’t think it would be fair to Roger to tell Brian without him knowing about it at all. My duty is to him, you have to understand that, Fred.”

 

“Well, but _my_ duty is also to Brian!”

 

“Then go ahead and tell him. I’m sure he will love to hear that on top of Roger running away after fucking him and leaving his hair on the ground, he is also not who he said he was at all and is probably the most important missing person on the continent right now even though it’s not public yet. I’m not keeping you from it but as I said, I don’t want to be in _this_ mess!”

 

John exhales a cloud of dark smoke. An official looking, fancy black car pulls up to the sidewalk. Two men in suits with the royal emblem get out.

 

“Oh, fuck me”, Freddie says. “I think the mess just came to us all by itself.”

 

There is a loud knock on the door and Brian looks up from his books. Did Freddie forget to take his key again? He stands up, the chair screeching on the floor.

 

“Hello Mister May, we would like to take you in for questioning since you have had affiliations with a certain _Miss Regina_.” The officer – whose uniform looks different than normal police – raises both eyebrows.

 

“I think you’re at the wrong flat”, Brian says lamely. “I don’t know anyone called Regina. Well, I do, I mean, everyone does, because it’s the name of the princess of course, but I certainly don’t know _her_ –“

 

“As convincing as your display is, I have orders to take you for questioning and as soon as we are at the castle you are welcome to tell us everything about how you “don’t” know Miss Regina.”

 

“What? I really don’t know her, you’re making a mistake…”

 

“Your friends Mister Bulsara and Mister Deacon are already in the car, Mister May. Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. Once we are someplace safer to talk, you’ll find that our interests may actually align.”

 

Confused and upset, Brian gets in the car where Freddie and John are already sitting on the expensive looking leather seats.

 

“What’s going on here?”, he hisses.

 

“I’m not sure we should talk about this here”, John says, since he doesn’t know how much the security officers know.

 

“Who is this Regina they are talking about?”

 

“Is it not obvious? It’s the princess, Brian.”

 

“But how do we have anything to do with the princess?”

 

“Use your brain, Mister Astrophysics. Maybe you already know the answer.”

 

***

 

“Some more porridge, Roger?”

 

“Yes, thank you.” Roger smiles and holds out his bowl and receives another ladle of food.

 

“You’re welcome, dear”, Mrs. Ansley says with an even bigger smile, the warm kind you only get from old people who are happy to have company resembling grandchildren. Not that Roger was in any way related to that lady. At least not that he knows of. The isle is not _that_ big after all.

 

The morning sun has risen over the sleepy fishing village and peeks through the small kitchen window.

 

“Sorry for still being here”, Roger says. “I know I said I’d only stay for one night.”

 

“And as _I_ said, you can stay as long as you’d like, Roger! I’m happy for some company, you know, my Henry is still out on the sea most of the time, the stubborn old goat, and my children don’t visit so often anymore.” Mrs. Ansley sighs. “They are busy with their jobs and their own little families, they have their own lives to take care of.” She smiles at a photo on the windowsill. It has her and her husband on it and their three grown-up children – they look like they were in their early twenties there so Roger knows it is not a very new picture.

 

“A long time ago, this house was bustling with energy like you wouldn’t believe. Three children are a lot of work, and they were all very lively ones at that. They would always slide down the stair railing even though I must have told them a thousand times not to.”

 

“I used to do that too, but I stopped eventually”, Roger says. “Otherwise I wasn’t allowed to leave my room for the day.”

 

Mrs. Ansley smiles, a bit of pity mixed in this time.

 

“You had very strict parents, didn’t you?”

 

“I didn’t see them very much, and I didn’t know it any differently”, Roger says. “Did you never send your kids to their rooms?”

 

“Not really, no. They liked it so much to play outside and when it was raining, they would play cards in the kitchen or pretend games all over the house.” Mrs. Ansley moves another ladle of porridge into his bowl.

 

***

 

Brian is sitting in a windowless room down in the castle, and the whole situation feels somewhat unreal to him. He has been left alone for about fifteen minutes in which he thought very hard about the name Regina and about Roger but came to no viable conclusion. The door opens, and a new person comes in in yet another uniform – all black with the royal emblem stitched into it, surrounded by other symbols that Brian can’t make any sense of. The man sits down on the other side of the table.

 

“Hello, Mister May. Do you know why you are here?”

 

“No, I don’t”, Brian says. He is glad – maybe this means he is going to get some answers. The man leans back in his chair.

 

“My name is Robert Hales and I am part of the royal security department. Princess Regina Meddows has gone missing about two days ago, so we are investigating. We are trying to get this settled without informing the public, so naturally, we want to talk to everyone associated with her.”

 

“What you are saying does make sense, but _I_ do not know the princess, I saw her at a charity function once and that was it. No further associations there.”

 

“You may not be aware of this”, Robert says carefully, “and you will never speak of this to anyone or it will have dire consequences. Princess Regina was not always happy with her… position. She used to sneak out of the castle sometimes to roam the streets of London, using a different name. She pretended to be a man named Roger.”

 

Brian laughs bitterly as if to say, “this is a joke, right?”, before he thinks about it and suddenly everything starts to make sense. Robert waits for a moment, then he continues.

 

“So, you had relations with Roger.”

 

“Yes”, Brian says, only half there because he is still going over all the incidents that make Robert’s thesis plausible.

 

“And what kind of relations were those?”

 

“We were friends”, Brian says. “We played music together.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Uhm, a few months, I guess, I don’t know exactly.”

 

“You were in a band called Queen with her and Mister Bulsara and Mister Deacon?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you have any knowledge of where Miss Regina, or Roger, as you know her, is right now?”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure, Mister May? I cannot promise you will come out of this unscathed if we find out, now or later, that you were lying at any point in this conversation.”

 

“I don’t know where he – she – is, I swear”, Brian says.

 

“When did you last see her?”

 

“Three days ago”, Brian says. “At a gig we had as Queen.”

 

“Right. The morning after that, Miss Regina returned to the castle and had a session with her psychologist because she was very upset.”

 

“You don’t know what she talked about with her psychologist, do you? That’s confidential.” Brian feels really bad for Roger at this point.

 

“Not that this is any of your concern, but yes, it is confidential. That is why we must find out without the psychologist. I believe special promises were made when the princess first started seeing him. What happened after the concert ended? Regina didn’t leave, did she?”

 

Maybe it would be wiser to lie now, but how can he know what Freddie and John are telling the officers, what will Roger’s story be when he comes back? Brian is a bit scared of what would happen if it came out later that he didn’t tell the truth. And it’s not like he did anything illegal, right? He didn’t even know it was the princess. _That Roger is the princess._

 

“She left with me, and she spent the night at my flat. When I woke up, she was gone. I don’t know what happened to her after that.”

 

“She spent the night at your flat? Were there any romantic advances involved in this?”

 

“How is this important?”

 

“It is important because we have to find out what made her run away so we can find her again. Were you in a romantic relationship with Miss Regina or Roger?”

 

“Yes”, Brian mumbles.

 

“Were there any sexual encounters?”

 

“That wouldn’t be logical, would it? If Roger is princess Regina who pretended to be a man, this means that I would have found out if there were any “sexual encounters”, but I didn’t know. She pretended very well, I must say.”

 

Robert seems to be satisfied with that. It is obvious that Brian isn’t lying about not having known the secret.

 

“What did you talk about before you went to sleep?”

 

***

 

“Since it seems you have developed a relationship with princess Regina that is too close for you to decipher if your duties are to her wishes or her well-being as the princess, you are hereby relieved of your position as a royal advisor. The details of your leaving the castle are written out here (John is given a piece of paper). If you have any questions, you are welcome to ask. The queen wishes to express her pity on your dismissal since you were well-liked by the princess, but the queen sees no other way of ensuring something like the current situation doesn’t happen again in the future. I also should remind you of the vows you made concerning absolute secretiveness about all royal affairs.”

 

***

 

“This porridge is really good”, Roger says and shoves another spoonful into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me how you liked it and who you'd like to follow a bit more in the next chapters ;)  
> Thanks for reading this far, you're awesome :D


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